the night

I woke up. The sharp sound of a hatchet laying into hardwood brought me back to life. I blinked and sat up straight.  My head smashed into the ceiling and bounced me back down to the bed. Stunned, I propped myself up on elbows. I was covered in a heavy green fleece blanket and lying…

the lynx

We had been sitting in the same spot since sundown, just waiting. Grandpa sat on the ground beside me shrouded in his dark green felt jacket, with a hat that flapped over his ears and almost his eyes, too. I was freezing and was being pretty noisy about it. The mild September day had turned…

Liv breaks in the church (part three cont’d)

Feeling like the childish protagonist of a 90’s coming-of-age drama, I sat down on the pew with the crocheted red and blue afghan we’d pulled from the nursery down the hall. The empty church was creepy as all hell, though that was probably an inappropriate comparison to draw. It was almost 10 o’clock and I…

condolences cont’d

(This stretch needs a lot of re-working -- but you're all in on this process, so here it is for now.) By 6:43 that evening the blaze was out and there was nothing but smoke left, curling to the sky like a tornado in reverse. The building, which had been white a couple hours ago,…

Part Three – condolences

“Count the cars, Lyle.” We were standing in the doorway, my ten-year-old nephew yanking his necktie. “Fifty-seven,” he said. That was our count so far, if we hadn’t missed any, which we probably had with all the comings and goings. There had been a steady stream of well-wishers all day. It was only three-thirty, halfway…

hunting accident {cont’d}

Part two of Part two. Marshall Francis, 84, of Indian Creek, NY, fulfilled his earthly service on Monday, October 20th. Throughout his long and illustrious life he answered to many titles: philosopher, farmer, carpenter, barn-painter, popcorn-maker, television critic, and even amateur artist. His illustrations have appeared on many a church bulletin. Most notably, he went…

Part Two – hunting accident

The people have spoken. The story goes on.   Five years later. It made sense that it would be Kate who called to tell me the news. Out of all of us, she is the best at handling matters of a delicate, uncomfortable, or tragic nature. This piece of news was of the tragic variety.…

Part One {Unedited}

This afternoon we got a nice long, lazy rain shower. (THANK YOU LORD.) So I did something I haven't done in a few geological ages and cranked out some fiction. This is part one of a short story slash novelette I've had in my head for a few years called Sleeping in Church. If I…