September 14, 2018

Lost In Beijing – a flash fiction

Lord knows I didn’t want to spend hours walking through the heart of Beijing yet there I was, trudging down dirty streets with a trail of sweat in my wake and an accumulating cloud of soot fogging the air around me. “Go see the Forbidden City,” my friend told me. “It is the one place you must go. You will have fun.” He was both right and wrong. He didn’t know my homebody spirit. He didn’t understand my preference to lounge. And yet I started my adventure marching by soldier after soldier as I left my hotel. I found a […]
February 1, 2018

Boys at the Red Waterfall

Sunlight streamed through branches and limbs overhead as boys ran through the woods on that fateful midsummer day on the path to a rumored watering hole fueled by a clandestine waterfall. The boys strained their necks and cupped their ears, listening for the gentle hum of the mysterious cascade whispered to them in rumors and hearsay by kids twice their age. They were driven. With a fervor that powered their shaking legs and slender limbs, they ran. And they ran, and they ran, and they ran, ever hoping they would find the secret path to the hidden waterfall where they […]
January 28, 2018

Reasons for a Favorite Sister – a Flash fiction

I banged my head against my desk to shake up details of matrices, organized inputs, and linear operations in my brain. “Visualize the matrix,” my favorite sister said while she sipped on an already warming beer in my dorm room. But no amount of tutoring could make linear algebra make sense and the cause, not taking the class for the third semester in a row, was difficult. But still, she persisted in skipping parties and time with her friends to make sure her favorite brother would pass. My favorite sister and I always took care of one another. We were […]
January 26, 2018

Lost Italian Festivals – A Flash Fiction

Since I was a boy, one thing was made clear to me straight away: when Italians came to the United States, they brought their towns and villages with them. My grandmother at fifty-three years old emphasized this as she baked in a hot fry hut in a Catholic church parking lot, rolling out and dipping in scalding oil pizza dough, until it was crisp and ready for sauces and cheeses or powdered sugar. “Nel blu, dipinto di blu” echoed from a car speaker on repeat for hours on end while Italian grandparents watched their American grandchildren toss rings, roll skee-balls, […]