The young reporter sat back in his chair, a look of awe, he knew he was displaying, was his expression. No matter what he could not shake… — The young reporter sat back in his chair, a look of awe, he knew he was displaying, was his expression. No matter what he could not shake it. The man in the dark suit stood up from his chair and began to pace the small office. The young man stayed silent and followed him closely trying not to break away from visually pursuing the man.

The last time, August had slept a century. He didn’t want to repeat that. The grogginess lasted so long he’d had to relearn how to use a… — The last time, August had slept a century. He didn’t want to repeat that. The grogginess lasted so long he’d had to relearn how to use a spoon correctly. August slipped into the apartment, carefully shutting the door behind him locking and chaining it. He hadn’t bolted the deadbolt at…

“So you paint?” He askes. His smirk sharply piercing the stillness of the studio. — “So you paint?” He asks. His smirk sharply piercing the stillness of the studio. “How did you…” “Do you paint?” He interrupts. “Yes,” I answer. “Well, I pay.” “What do you want me to paint, sir?” I ask. “My love.” He declares. “Your love? Sir, it’s 2014.” I say. “So?” …

There is Poetry Here. — There is Poetry Here. At three a.m. we were all drunk sitting on the observation deck of the train as it pulled into the San Antonio station. I’d been lucky enough to sleep through that stop on my way to New Orleans. Now on my way back home, I was…

Night — Night There is a bench next to this tree. It hasn’t been there as long as the tree has but I have watched them for many years. I have heard their conversations and their bitter tales. Though, there were happy thoughts. The tree looks wicked and violently contorted, tangled and…

The lights went out shortly after Debra had stitched the left foot of the blue onesie. The storm clouds outside, still gray… — 1. The lights went out shortly after Debra had stitched the left foot of the blue onesie. The storm clouds outside, still gray in the sun's light lent little color into the house. In the next room, Sam sat on the floor in his underwear, Indian style and with a…

The mouth is a gun, smoking and ready, Elaine’s was a testament to the fact. — The mouth is a gun, smoking and ready, Elaine’s was a testament to the fact. “You remind me of a cat I had when I was around your age. The soup is cold and tastes like piss and I told you I wanted the good tea this time no matter…