I just saw Dr. Mason. Now I know. It’s all happening too fast. Just two weeks ago, I finished training for our town’s Volunteer Fire Department. That’s when we got a call. My first. A house on fire. Neighbors said there were still people in there. We went in as best we could through the […]
Stories
A Portrait of Love
I take Mother’s picture to the dinner table every night. She smiles, still happy. I speak of my sister Nancy and Dad. Nancy’s writing. My mastering a Tchaikovsky waltz.
The chicory kid
The chicory kid If it would get your attention, I could tell you that the boy in question wore colors and spoke street English. His death, while tragic, is part of the American argot, just the latest Indian who has duly given up his land. Deep in our psyche is a man who settles disputes […]
GNAW
Paul wasn’t sure he could eat the hand of a fellow human being, but he was dying…. He took out the pocket knife with frost bitten fingers. Opened it. Held her hand a long time. Her flesh was pale. The painted fingernails looked like bloody claws. He shuddered. He definitely would avoid the fingernails. Still […]
Martin’s Conscience (The Dog)
Martin’s driving fast and reckless. A bottle in his hand. His teeth clenched in an angry snarl. It started this morning. Late for work at the telemarketing company where his sales are down. His boss came in and fired him.
Swallowing Light
Jonathan Douglas Dowdle was born in Nashua, NH and has traveled throughout the US, he currently resides in South Carolina. Previous works have appeared or are appearing in
The Right Ear
“You make your childhood sound gothic,” he’d said the week before. “Well, that explains the dress code,” I’d retorted. Deep down, I doubted that his detached observations, paired with my dry humour, would prove beneficial. Still, I was back. I was there because I’d reached out for help. Because I couldn’t sleep or work. Because […]
What are We?
I wasn’t comfortable here, I should have just said “no!” The house was abandoned, and from what Kelly confessed to me while driving here, made me angry.
Requiem for Chopin
Elaine was lucky for two reasons. She had flood insurance and she had somewhere to go.
Her new life, far away from the dire-faced officials on the Public Access channel was finally coming into focus after the two-hour layover in Chicago.
Afterlife
I never thought much about the afterlife. Until now. I can’t move, breathe, speak or hear and it is so dark all the time. If I knew it would be this lonely, I would have been cremated instead. Chuckling softly at the irony of it all, I pick at the maggots wriggling on my forehead. […]