Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky 8 min @ Sorauren Parkette for Sonia H. Someone told me that the little orbs of light in photos means a spirit was present when the photo was taken. I took a photo of a cemetery at night just to see how many orbs came out. Read more
1000 Places To See Before You Die by Patricia Schultz 8 min @ Sorauren parkette There was something untethered about Ruth. She never seemed fully present. Angella said it was because of her one off-centered eye. She had those eyes that you never knew which one to look into so you just Read more
my settings are off. there’s been a universal shift, imperceptible to the eye. random passersby are oblivious. even acquaintances remain unknowing until i verbalize the details in answer to “what’s new?”. is it still new? it’s three wednesdays since his last breath. is that a lot of time Read more
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion 8 min @ Hub Coffeehouse It was a bad version of a Monty Python skit. Shit kept going wrong and Cam kept insisting he was fine. He was turning the corner, not to worry. It was a long-ass corner, a never-ending bend. But Read more
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner 8 min @ Mercury Espresso “Savour your moments.” His whisper is hot in her ear. The mercury sits at thirty three celsius. She’s no good with numbers but she knows it’s ‘hella hot’. She’s locked in his gaze but her focus is tracking Read more
Can I have another? It’s a holiday week – it begins with Canada’s birthday and the middle is all about American independence. I’m up in bucolic Land o’ Lakes territory at a friend’s cottage, escaping the relentless but well meaning condolences. I’m grateful for every single one, but each one Read more
She’d sworn, no gun play ever. She made the promise the minute the technician deciphered the ultrasound image. Betts knew she had zero jurisdiction in the playground or the neighbors’ backyard but she had absolute powers at 52 Meadowbrook. It was a dictatorship- no guns, toys or otherwise. She reminded Read more
Because I was delivering my dad’s eulogy… Barrington Wintrose Huie. Quite a name for quite a man. But to most he was simply Barry. Mr. Huie to a few. And ”Dad” to two. No man is just one thing, and my father was no different. He was a provider, a Read more