The banana segments resembled a fallen column. They lay on the plate in a neat line, as if recently toppled. Brandmeier stared at the pieces. Could the temple have been that far gone by 800? He put a segment in …
Of Dreams Dank and Fetid
Seattle’s a slimy old town, slick with the self-satisfied excrescences of those who stole the indigenous land and remade it in the service of money. Brooding in the rank strata beneath the veneer of biotech and skyscraper townhouses is the …
Who Will Take Me Home?
Sun, blue sky. The false spring of February, a nice break from Seattle’s usual winter gray. He stared out at the busy highway. Probably missing a nice fat trip downtown or even to the airport. Well, so what? Most of …
No Worry’s
Vincent was bummed. The boeuf bourguignon had bombed. He’d tried—Lord, how he’d tried: two hours simmering, chopping herbs, adding stock and wine in precise measures, more simmering, more babying. But no, something was off, the damn thing was heavy and …
Down the Tube
In the far northeast corner of Washington State, the Pend d’Oreille River winds through a dark and doleful countryside. The thickly-forested hills press close to the highway, and even in summer the sun seems reluctant to intrude. Weathered farm houses …
Goosing Goodman
Irwin Linsacker did not seek attention. Attention implied dogs and children. When Irwin was a child, his mother’s dismissal of a crying jag with a brusque, “Oh, he just wants attention,” dissuaded him from further lapses in self-control. Recognition, however, …
The Prize
Morning. Golden Earth morning. Golden Earth morning with a new box on the table!
Sean came into the kitchen just as his mother set it out.
“Mom, can I pick it up?”
“Okay, Sean, but no opening.” No one was …
House by the Railroad
“There’s a man out there.” His wife’s voice floated in from the front room. It was always floating in wisp-like from some room or other.
“Oh?” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“A man?”
“Yes, a man. Watching the house.”
“This …
I Shall Not Remain Buddha-like
Innocence fled long ago. It withered under inflated expectation, schoolroom inanity, war’s insanity, unfulfilled romance, and finally, age. Innocence fled, leaving behind disillusionment, disappointment, and failure, even at this.
I’ve been called four times for jury duty in the last …
No Worry’s
Vincent was bummed. The boeuf bourguignon had bombed. He’d tried—Lord, how he’d tried: two hours simmering, chopping herbs, adding stock and wine in precise measures, more simmering, more babying. But no, something was off, the damn thing was heavy and …