Fiction

Janice was dressed in two towels, one on her head and one covering her body, when she heard the knock. As she ran towards the door, the towel on her head kept slipping off her short hair, giving her the choice of taking one hand off the towel covering her body or one hand off the handrail. Her stairs were metal and she was still dripping water; she needed that handrail. She let the towel on her head drop.

“Hello,” she said, with a tone of what the hell’s so urgent? Is there a fire?

Tides

published in Cleaning Up Glitter, 2019

“Here’s to the fucking joys of being 50,” Kate says, raising a glass to her husband’s best friend. Everyone, including her husband Andrew, is staring at her—or so it seems to her. Fleeing to the only bathroom in the house, she locks the door. She only…

The Black Phone

published in The Write Launch, August 2019

Carolyn drew a deep breath and tried to ready herself for her mother’s invasion. It was a damp spring Saturday morning and as she stood on the top of the brick steps of her front porch, drinking tea from her favorite handle-less mug, she looked at the wet cherry

VULNERABLE AT KNEE

published in 101 Words, June 2019

Her therapist warns, “You need to walk on it or your knee will never properly heal.”

“That evening, in the kitchen, Sara juggles the crutches and knife. When a cucumber peel falls to the floor, she is scared to even poke it.