Archive for

Short Fiction: ‘Highway 204, Revisited’

The old man traverses the highway median using a 9 iron as a walking stick, the blade hitting the ground in a canted way so that his legs give – just slightly – with every striding attempt at support. Not enough give to be considered any kind of curtsy. He grips the golf club like … Continue reading

I Miss Your Face Like Hell

T.R.E.A.T.S. #16 – Dave No. 123,169

“Well you know, Dave’s on depression meds now. I asked him where this sudden, unbearable sadness came from. He said the world was like a new kind of metal. Malleable but without any luster. Something else about putty in an absent playground bully’s hands, molded into crude sculptures and then flattened to make cheap copies … Continue reading