Goodloe Byron could be considered an idiosyncratic fellow: of the three books he has published, REVISIONS OF, THE ABSTRACT, and THE WRAITH, not a one is available in stores, but out on the streets. That’s not said in some cliché, Continue reading
After a long day I drive into a shitstorm of flashing lights, police barricades and EMTs. I blow a sigh and twirl the wheel.
Life of a reporter, it never ends.
I approach a rosy-cheeked rookie, too dumb to hold back unconfirmed details. The main thing I want to know is if anyone’s dead. We don’t do fender-benders, we follow the grim reaper.
“So, you were right, Kevin, the nest is empty,” Judy declares, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me, then pours my coffee, apparently, from her tone and expression, expecting a response.
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Nardo walked along the beach and noticed a woman buried in sand. Her long black hair was wet from waves, her face tan from long days in the sun. He approached the buried body, and she spoke, “Hey, hello. Would you move me? The Continue reading
I went to see a Doctor of Philosophy to treat my case of Plato-Plotinus.
“How long have you been seeing shadows in caves?” he asked.
“For protracted periods,” I said.
1997
It all started with a birthday gift my ex-girlfriend gave me. She knew I wanted to get into puppetry, but didn’t understand I meant the marionette kind, like in Being John Malkovich. She actually made me a dozen sock puppets. It was sweet, but I found this type of puppetry to be a bit hack. Still, there was something strange about these things. It didn’t take long. Maybe a couple of days. My friend Josh and I were talking. That’s when it started.
Michael the orderly was seated on a bench, nodding his head, drawing information from Todd, a patient in the long-term care facility.
“I think Marty Vreeland’s in love with Valerie,” Todd said. “He’s crazy hungry, like before. You can’t knock a guy for that. I can’t.”
Michael nodded. “Everybody has to love somebody around here or go nuts. Valerie’s his anchor.”
Todd thought Michael sounded like a professor, often dispensing good advice in the facility. “There’s a new edge to this,” he said. “They want to play around. French or what, I don’t know, but it has to be handled by someone who’s thoughtful.”
Park Model "Swing Carousel" at Dollywood Amusement Park, Pigeon Forge, TN
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I use my nail stick to spear a loose piece of paper, a wrapper from some bag of chips. I put it in the canvas sack slung over my shoulder like the kind old-time paperboys once used to carry their papers.
I work this little pocket park everyday at this time. I wear gray work pants and shirt and laced work boots. I fit right in. I also use a weed whacker to trim the grass border of the sand filled kiddies play lot. Sometimes I use my rake to clean debris from the sand. I always leave it smooth like a Zen garden.
After the third knock, Amy’s dad bursts out and lunges for me. “What have I told you about coming here?” he says, his hands gripping my jacket. “What have I fucking told you?”
“Look, I just want to know if Amy’s all right.”
“That’s none of your business any more, is it.” He pushes me down the path. “Now piss off, or I’m warning you.”
Anatol Timko was still not comfortable using a wheelchair. Several unsuccessful surgeries had not been able to correct his herniated disc. The doctor had recommended a sustained amount of time spent off his feet. Anatol had reservations about this.
The chair was making him feel claustrophobic and he didn’t like feeling dependent on his girlfriend or mother for everyday tasks. He was also having trouble sleeping. He would
My name is Cassiopeia. I am from the planet Caprica, now destroyed by evil forces. I am part of a rag-tag fleet searching for Earth, our ancient and spiritual home. I’m in unrequited love with a handsome Captain…
And now I am Princess Leia… in a queue at WH Smith. I am the last royalty of a Galaxy from long ago and far away, and I’m impatiently waiting for a Wookie to make his purchase.
He rolled out of his CTS Caddy and closed the door softly. Reaching inside his sport coat he pulled out a pair of dark aviator’s sunglasses and slipped them on. An odd gesture, considering his eyes were as black as a moonless night in Hades itself. Glancing to his left and then to his right he checked out the pedestrian traffic.
The moon is full on the horizon, full and dancing along the top of every gentle wave. Three feet above the low tide mark the rug doesn’t move.
The hands of the watch glide silently over the Greek key pattern in red and gold. The time reads 10:52 am. His silent protest these seven years, but no one ever looked that close. She always made sure he wore the watch because she Continue reading
The Dictatorial
