Dysfunctional Families

In this short story, moments in a long-ago summer inform the lives of the characters for years afterwards. Overhead, the blue sky hung, thick as a quilt; like tufts of cotton, the puffy white clouds dotted the sky on that hot summer day.  In the air around me, the scent of fruit rotting in the nearby orchards assaulted my nostrils.  I scrunched up my nose as a swarming fly zoomed in for a landing; eager to reach my destination, I pushed down harder on the pedals of my bicycle.  It wasn’t...Read Full Story

Can you ever really go home again?  And if you do, can you turn the detritus from the past into something positive?  In this excerpt from Family Values , our characters must answer these questions...and more.   They huddle around the table like so many crows perched on a fence, all in their own little worlds.  At the head of the table and assuming his rightful role as patriarch, Father dictates the flow of the platters, gesticulating and grunting, but otherwise ignoring the assembled family...Read Full Story

How long must the past inform our lives? As soon as she spotted the blue scented envelope, her heart lurched.  The familiar backslanted handwriting, coupled with that unusual scent, signaled a long-ago time.  A time Caroline had hoped to forget. Back in the summer of 1976, they had all gathered together, their petitions in hand.  Hopeful, idealistic and eager, they just knew that their goal would be accomplished.  Soon a member of the Board of Supervisors would join their little group and it...Read Full Story

In this short story, a woman looks forward to a blissful, serene retirement...but we don't always get what we wish for! I awakened very slowly that spring morning, aware of a strange feeling of disorientation.  Had my alarm clock malfunctioned?  As I glanced at its face, registering the time at seven o’clock, I momentarily panicked.  Normally, I would have been up an hour-and-a-half before, halfway to work by this time, refreshed by my shower and fortified by my two cups of coffee.  I would...Read Full Story

In this story, a newly retired social worker anticipates her future—but then everything changes. I awakened very slowly that spring morning, aware of a strange feeling of disorientation.  Had my alarm clock malfunctioned?  As I glanced at its face, registering the time at seven o’clock, I momentarily panicked.  Normally, I would have been up an hour-and-a-half before, halfway to work by this time, refreshed by my shower and fortified by my two cups of coffee.  I would have quickly perused the...Read Full Story