He would not have her while I breathed. He was a vile poison and she was life itself. What do I say about my love, my partner, my sacred? How do I make you see her as I do? Well, I can’t. I will fail you if you try to look through my eyes. But… Continue reading Lost Confessions: Light
Tag: Bekah
The Man in the Clouds
My life is like no one else’s. It takes a genius like my wife to design the kind of life I live, a beautiful, driven and devastating mind to build and up keep the construct I wander through. It scares me how perfect it is in its creation and how delicate it has become, how… Continue reading The Man in the Clouds
Lost Confessions: Rising Winds
There is something happening in my head and I have to write. I have a lot of work to do, so I might be doing that, but that is grunt work. Run on sentences and passive voice weeding. Collapse this character. Change this point of view. But our fucking minds are flaming and the surrounding… Continue reading Lost Confessions: Rising Winds
Lost Confessions
I was talking to Bekah about my blog the other day. We were talking about the posts I still needed to write to fill this year’s series, and an image came to me as if from a flash of light illuminating a storming night. “I have an old blog somewhere,” I said. “What did you… Continue reading Lost Confessions
Teth
“Are you Jack or are you real?” the beast said. It was sitting on the edge of Job’s bed, its head low, its claws biting deep on the side of the mattress. I was not aware. It was a Tuesday and I had been drinking. Regina and Bekah had gone home to sit by their… Continue reading Teth
The Prince of Darkness
“I can’t. I just can’t. You have to find another.” Shadow was crying. It was 2008 and we were stuck. We had signed up for a writing workshop and paid a hefty sum. The cost of admission included a reading from seven people. Five editors would read the first five pages. They would weigh in… Continue reading The Prince of Darkness
Volacha
“What do you love?” I asked her. She was African-American, pretty, a bit thick in the right places, with a beautiful sundress and immaculate hair. She was tall, and barefoot, with an angry face and a bag over her shoulder. She was having a bad day, I could tell by her body language, and she… Continue reading Volacha
