Monthly Archives: July 2014

Hiding Out

Crazy Uncle Albert can still be found in the overstuffed family closet. That year, my mother sent my brother Simon and I to stay in the country. We had nothing against the country, clean air, or getting out of the city. But, mother had decided she was going back to the city and that we would be looked after by Uncle Albert. Yes, our crazy uncle — the man that couldn’t care for himself — was to look after us. Somehow the irony of it never met my mother. Continue reading Hiding Out

And Your Enemies Closer

Keep your friends close is what my Aunt Tia used to say, though it was never clear to me whether she knew what a friend was. Or wasn’t. That summer day that I first came to visit with her in that steaming little town in Georgia — the day it was so hot the fire ants had heat stroke — in her little brick ranch house under the tall pines was the day I learned about Eunice. Continue reading And Your Enemies Closer

A Case in Chinatown

There was something foul, burning in his mouth. He was coming around now, he realized. His throat felt raw. Where am I? he asked himself. He spit to clear his mouth, not really caring.

He opened his eyes. The light was poor, but he looked to be in a forest of horizontal bars — he thought he faced a maze of ladders arranged by a lunatic. Some near, some farther, fuzzy, out-of-focus. A fog seemed to hang in the air. He tried to turn his head. Pain lanced through his shoulder and neck. Continue reading A Case in Chinatown

Under the Floor

They didn’t know what they’d find when they started pulling up the floorboards in the old house they were renovating. Not that anyone would normally expect to find anything unusual really. Certainly, you’d expect to find dirt, dead bugs, and the like. And, then there is the uncommon but explainable. A coin or a poker chip that a child wedged into a gap in the air duct, listening to it roll between the joists, gone from them forever. Continue reading Under the Floor

Waiting for Millie

He walked down the lane whistling a hymn to himself. It was November and cold, but there was no snow. Not yet. He approached it as another routine day in a long march of routine days. Distracted by the mental checklist of things that he needed to do, his body took him towards his destination. He greeted familiar and unfamiliar faces in the street with a smile. Continue reading Waiting for Millie