Tag Archives: smoking

Betty on Sunday Morning

The door slammed shut and Betty cringed in her blankets. The smell of sweat lingered and tears soaked her pillow. It was four-thirty on Sunday morning. She had been here countless times. On the floor beside the bed lay her … Continue reading

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Mr. Dead

Mr. Dead lifted his head. His brow was drenched in sweat. He reached for a napkin on the table. He struggled to clasp the paper but his fingers had become stiff from his labor. He clumsily wiped his forehead as … Continue reading

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Jack the Bum

Floorboard creaks under a heavy foot. A pale, wrinkled hand grabs hold of a brass doorknob. The old hand struggles to turn the stubborn knob, but the knob tries harder to tear the hand from the feeble arm. Defiantly the … Continue reading

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The Desert

I rose my hand closer to my face and gazed at the miniature insect. She was a funny ant. She had large, sharp, coarse jaws. Her head was large and round. She had six legs that moved in harmony and a pair of antennas that wailed in discord. How many other rival ants had she beheaded? If I was an ant I would be a red ant and I would behead 100 ants, black ants. Continue reading

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