Screams erupted from every ride in the carnival, even the not-particularly-scary ones like the Ferris Wheel and the Turtle Train, as Conor walked the midway. The smell of funnel cakes and corn dogs and cotton candy washed over him. Discarded hamburgers and crushed lemons from discarded cups of lemonade littered the ground. He looked in the hall of Funhouse mirrors and saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Long red...

At Bronwig’s bookshop there's a notice on the door, in red capitals: IN LIQUIDATION. It’s devastating. I’d been a customer since I was too small to see more than the top of Mr Bronwig’s head behind the counter. His hair was white, even then; delicate as cotton candy. I didn’t come to Bronwig’s for the books at first. I came for the turtles. When you bought a book, Mr Bronwig would delicately fold a paper model to serve as...

My Truth is Lonely. I imagine yours is, too. Mine can’t be shared; I suspect the same for you. Truth weighs heavily upon its owner because Truth destroys. Only fools say “Just tell the Truth. It’s the best thing to do.” Revealing a Truth always harms someone it seems. Typically Someone I know. Someone I love. I suspect the same for You. Is Truth measured by the amount of harm it causes? Truth’s a secret we hold and withho...

The next morning Eric was escorted to his cell under strict watch after completing his three hour therapy session, with the same results as day one. Not a damn thing had changed in his behavior or his way of thinking. As they neared his cell he could smell an unusual stench to say the least. He couldn't quite describe it, but it made his nose curl in disgust. The guards stopped their march and followed Eric's lead, curlin...

I don't know about you But I want to know everything Your hometown Your dreams and fears   I want to know What makes you smile What turns you on What makes your heart race   I want to know What sets your soul on fire What your makes you crazy I know You send my heart racing You are my passion I want to make your heart race As we are tangled up in the sheets   What does your wrist tattoo say?  

I have been here before Many times more A different face In a different place.   As each vessel dies Amidst loved one’s cries The spirit rises I return in guises.   Plato, Nero, Rembrandt and Bach Each return gives new paths to walk Embodied within A new life and new skin.   Creating a future from the past Lessons learned from knowledge amassed Life begets life endlessly driven Vessels usurped to what they’ve been given....

He spat in the guard's face and managed to shove him to the ground before two more restrained him. While he struggled and thrashed violently, he slammed one man against the wall and the other against a filing cabinet. You'd think they would learn not to try and take advantage of him. He may be crazy, but he sure as hell didn't bat for the other team. The warden's voice boomed through the hallway and he could hear him stom...

It was not a great Summer. The girl I was seeing decided to seek greener pastures and I fought with my buddy Dr. Radio about the way he ran his mobile DJ business. We had a verbal disagreement which ended with my quitting and stopped taking his phone calls. It was on the Friday of that week that I headed out to drown my sorrows at a well known and lively bar/ restaurant named the "Fast Break". There in the large back room...

It was a beautiful summer day in Wisconsin. The family reunion was in full swing. The adults were sitting around talking as the sun was shining high in the summer sky. The kids were running around the back yard shrieking. They needed to get sunscreen put on.The adults were sipping lemonade trying to beat the heat  as they  watch the kids jumping in the pool one by one, splashing and having a good time. Andrew was in the s...

When I started college at Ohio State, I was living in an apartment with two of my older brothers. My third year of college, I had to move into the dorms. When I moved, I had more social opportunities with women. So, I would ask a girl out on a Friday or Saturday, to one of the High Street clubs for some beer and dancing.  More often than not, when I was dancing with my date, a snot-nosed frat boy would try to dive between...

I always loved this place: cherry trees flanking the wildflower meadow, sunlight glistening off the lake beyond. I hurry towards our bench and, spotting it, gasp. He waited… Running, I throw my arms around him. He’s soft, warm; his scent conjures memories, forgotten emotions. “I’ve missed you so much.” “And I, you.” He holds me close then eases me away. “You shouldn’t be here yet. Go, it's okay.” I’m suddenly woozy and th...

The fresh, crisp air stung at her lungs as Lynwen breathed deeply on the porch of the inn that she had stayed at the previous night. She pulled her cloak tightly around her body, shivering slightly. She looked out in the fields as the farmers hurriedly tried to harvest the last of the crops before the primary frost set in. Axes swooshed through the air before clacking into trees or logs. She can hear a gruff woodcutter si...

Her visage glimpsed above a balustradeAnd from a distance wonderment arose.Enchanting, pristine character most staid,Serenely dreaming, peaceful, at repose. Perhaps she is not tranquil deep inside,It might be true that passions roil within.Her face may not reflect all she may hideRepressed, unseen, proud fantasies therein.  The two of us might share supernal glee,Together we should seek romantic thrills.Devotion offers ho...

The worst word in golf. I know, it’s part of the etiquette of the game, but it’s the part we all hate to shout or hear. It’s one of those things in the arsenal of golf, like mulligans and do-overs and foot wedges. Once the dreaded “Fore!” has been uttered, golfers all over the course scramble for trees or wrap their arms around their heads and do the “ants-in-the-pants-dance” like they are trying to escape dive-bombing se...

I remember attic fans in the summer and radiators in the winter and if you backed into it trying to get warm, you burnt your ass. I remember linoleum floors. Stovetop percolators. Gas stoves you had to light with wooden matches. I remember glass bottles of milk with cardboard stoppers on the porch. Wall phones with 15-foot cords hanging in the kitchen. Screen doors with long springs to close them. Loudly. I remember rugs,...