The only thing staining my palms is Sharpie ink. A hypocrite who loves liturgy and science isn’t likely to bleed for her faith, though I watched that movie last night on cable, the one with Gabriel Byrne as the sexy priest and Patricia Arquette as the unduly afflicted, and I stare at my palms all [...]
Tag Archives | fiction
The Former Quarterback’s Club
On December 9th, 2011, the New People’s bank at the Norton Commons (a shopping center with stores like Maurice’s popular enough two years ago to bless Wise and Norton Virginia with their presence, a couple of gift shops, a Radio Shack, and a Burke’s outlet) was robbed by the father of two guys [...]
Who’s Reading Whom?
Mrs. Hope isn’t down on River Street—the tourists’ hub—even though a psychic could probably make a good living downtown amidst tipsy tourists looking to experience Savannah through candy shops, souvenir stores, and the open container law. Getting your fortune told, for most, has that fleeting vacation charm, like getting henna tattoos or caricatures drawn of [...]
Silent Night
The little white church was even brighter and whiter under a moonlit starry night and an icy coat of frost that sparkled like diamond dust. A soft fog was feeling its way down the mountain, and it was bringing with it a harder chill to the valley floor. The gathering inside the church was [...]
Go to Hell
“There is nothing like a southern college in the spring,” my dad’s friend says. We are sitting in a little-lit Italian restaurant in Bristol called Vicenzo’s. Behind the bar is a young guy with sleeves and glasses with no frames all around, just on the sides. My dad and his friend drink some [...]
A Transcript, 11/25
Q: Tell us what happened in your own words. ANDREA CARROLL: Can I see him? He’s in the other room, isn’t he? Can I please talk to him? Q: Ms. Carroll, you need to tell us what happened. AC: If I tell you, can I talk to him? Please? Q: Ms. Carroll– AC: And what [...]
Loading ...
Recent Comments