circular staircase

fiction

  • deary diary

    May 17th Another day, another headache, dear diary. Arturo says it’s nerves. I don’t think it’s nerves. I think it is the opposite of nerves. I’m so happy my head is literally not figuratively splitting. Headache, schmeadache, my first week at the Copernicus went great. I’m not working on any of the major artifacts found

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  • Lucky One

    The bite of scotch bonnet nipped at Anika’s nose. Humming, Joachim was whipping up shrimp and jollof rice in his kitchen for their special evening together. Tenderhearted, Joachim went out of his way each day to make her feel special. It was their first anniversary. She was so lucky with Joachim. They’d met at work.

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  • Faster & Faster

    The weather was just perfect. My oar chipped the river. The river greeted me. The sun winked over the tree line. My shoulders, my arms, I moved in smooth equal strokes. My life fell away as I paddled from my troubles. Faster and faster I went.This morning I was stiff. I pulled off the covers

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  • Daisy, Daisy

    Daisy’s hair was a rich brown halo of thick coils. With a rat tailed comb, her mother separated the locks into smaller sections. Daisy with her tablet in hand sat cross legged on a pillow on the kitchen floor as Thea bent to rub coconut oil into the child’s hair. Sunlight from the window over

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  • Fruits & Veg

    Pet waved bye bye to her old man. He waved back and turned quickly to pretend blow his nose. Pet knew he was crying. Old people are sentimental. Youngsters were more practical. Pet looked up at the weak sun and pretend wiped sweat from her brow. She steered her boat towards the sun. She sailed

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  • You Can Feel It

    The fog rolled onto the beach. The whine of leaf blowers echoed as maintenance men cleared away dust and dried leaves from the boardwalk. An army of cleaning crews made beds and vacuumed rugs in motels and beach houses along the shore. The tiny shore town was preparing for the season. Weak beams of sunlight

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  • Of Wolves and Angels

    Iridescent damselflies flitted across the scum green pond’s surface. Rafe thought of visiting his abuela in the Keys during summer vacations, days by the water, falling asleep in the sun. Images of Carmine floated up from the pond, his crooked smile. Rafe wiped at his eyes and aimed his rented boat towards the dock.Iridescent damselflies

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