What they never tell you about Lil Red Riding Hood is that the wolves were everywhere.
She hadn’t seen her children or grandchildren for so long she sometimes forgot she had them. Then Child Protective Services found her.
What she will remember about that morning won’t be the sky, though this will be what so many will remember. How it was so blue and cloudless.
Alerts flash through my phone. High winds. Flash flooding. Seek shelter. Our pup’s at the kitchen door, and I let her in.
When you get as hungry as a bear do you hear the bear? If you do hear the bear, do you hear it from the inside, or from the outside? Does the bear speak French?
While teaching a writing workshop at the Fine Arts Work Center, I invited a friend of mine to join me as I had a whole cottage with three rooms to myself, and to be my guest in the workshop of nonficiton.
“You know what’s terrible?” she said. “Most people never know the last time they’re going to kiss someone. They don’t know that’s it.
I might have known her anywhere: the wreck of a cheek, the loose lid of an eye, the broken vein, felled breast, the burst cloud of the iris.
Many years ago my mother wrote me a letter from Africa.
The old man fell asleep in his car, his nostrils pressed softly against the steering wheel, but the car kept going, because the old man’s foot was not asleep, was still pressing down hard, and later they would say, it’s not really his fault, he’s such an old man.
Ignis, the flaming wreckage, bubbling rubber, liquified cloth, her skin charred and blistering, acrid smoke, the tiny thunders of survival’s kicks
In the barren cold camp, you wear a dusty cape and top hat, wave my cane as if it were a wand and tell me your dream-stories, one after the next, your words spun and tossed like tethers into the air.