James G. Wetheart levitated once. Just the once, briefly, he was that much closer to heaven. No one witnessed his ascension, so he carefully transcribed the experience in an onionskin journal with a calligraphy pen. Among the details he wrote, “Who knows? But...
She deals with it by swimming. Lap after lap in the cool early autumn evening, alone in the motel pool in her black one-piece suit with the straps that criss-cross in the back. After the tenth lap she holds her breath and sinks to the bottom, where little yellow...
My dad and grandfather are together by the pond. The place is so big I can sneak up on anyone, stealing from an azalea bush over to the magnolia tree to gather a few of the hand grenades it manufactures, in case of enemy attack. Light and shade are everywhere. With...
Steve never meant to lose Linda in the forest. It was just that he was so excited to reach the high alpine lake that he ran up the mountain like a billy goat and left her behind. Once he turned to check on her while standing on the trunk of a massive Douglas fir that...
The whole class went fishing, last day of third grade. This was 1980. I remember the rods lined up along the blackboard like skinny kids hoping to be chosen for kickball. My father had lent me a light-weight black rod, spinning reel, three-pound-test line. Perfect for...
Berta’s cure for everything is some old-school hip-hop, a bottle of Brass Monkey and a trip to the Cactus Club. Beneath the bleeding Jesus picture on the wall, the stereo is crackling out a song I can’t understand until Berta starts rapping along, party after party,...
