Fiction, Poetry, Nonfiction, Photography and Photo Art
“True to you.” The voice emanating from the computer’s speakers was female, perky. Lisa pictured some blond, blue-eyed pixie, an image that set her teeth on edge.
“Your own personal life experience at the mall is now available,” the voice continued. “Please, enter and enjoy!” Continue reading “True To You”
I have been walking for quite some time when I realize my thirst has grown to the point of urgency. The landscape morphed again a while back and now includes a large number of trees. The narrow, dirt path in front of me curves to the right. I assume the next fresh water spring will appear around that bend but there is no way to be certain. Though I’ve rarely been made to go without water or food for too long, there have been a few times when I thought I might pass out from the lack of one or both. It’s unwise to take anything for granted here. There is nothing to do but keep walking. Continue reading “In the Garden”
“Miss Ann! Miss Ann!” A soft, insistent knocking at my door along with the repetition of my name finally penetrated my sleeping brain. I opened my eyes and sat up in bed as I heard Julia call again. “Miss Ann! You must get up. The constable is here. He says he must talk to you.” Continue reading “A Woman’s Tale”
I’m not sure exactly when it started. The brick wall encircling my property winds through some uncultivated areas and though my intention was to walk the perimeter once a month, that intention was often suppressed by my sedentary nature. All I can say is that I found the first breach in the wall a month ago when I stumbled over the bricks that had been removed, piled in a disorganized heap as if to mock my desire to keep the rabble out. Continue reading “Something There Is…”
The preparations are complete. A lovely art deco tray has been placed on top of the sideboard. It holds a carafe of carefully mixed and chilled martinis, ready to pour into the two beautifully etched glasses he gave me one year for my birthday. I’ve arranged a fancy little mold of pate and some English water crackers on a platter; also a plate of fresh fruit and brie. All of his favorite things. I’m wearing a slinky, sexy black dress. My red shoes definitely qualify as fuck me pumps. The gun is loaded and waiting for me in the drawer of the sideboard. He will be here soon.
I’m ready. Continue reading “Flash Finish”
“Look,” I said, trying very hard to keep my temper in check. “I know you’ve had a plumber out here to look at the toilet three times already but I’m telling you, there’s still something wrong with it. It flushes itself without warning. Sometimes three or four times in the middle of the night. It’s disrupting my sleep.” Continue reading “Flush”
When Ed Jenkins decided to retire to Florida, he had one goal in mind: finding a house with a beautiful lawn. This was non-negotiable in his mind. After years of condominium living in the big city, he wanted grass. Lovely, velvety, lush green grass. And so he engaged Liz Hall, his realtor, in an extended search for the perfect property. Some had too many trees. Some too much ground cover. Some too much patio or pool. He didn’t know how to describe the perfect lawn. He could see it clearly in his mind but found himself unable to wrap the right words around his vision. Perhaps that’s why it took so long to find “the” house, six full months before they pulled up in front of a small, ‘50s style home with a sparkling emerald carpet out front. His heart lurched. His breath caught. As soon as he confirmed that the back yard was as pristine as the front, his decision was made. Ed had found his home. And Liz, patience worn raw, heaved a huge sigh of relief the day they closed the deal. Continue reading “Lawn Maintenance”
“What the fuck?” I whipped my head around and glared as the front end of a grocery cart bumped my backside. How was I supposed to know some frail old woman was using her cart for support and had momentarily lost her equilibrium? It wasn’t personal, simply a reflex reaction on my part. But there she was, face all aquiver, clinging to the handle of her cart as if her life depended on it. I meant to apologize. Okay, maybe I didn’t. Continue reading “Karma”
The little mole lay on the bicycle path in front of us, stiff in death yet oddly appealing. Chico, our Chihuahua-Dachshund mix, strained at the leash while Tiffany, my six-year-old, squatted down and stretched a finger toward the corpse.
“No, honey,” I said, “don’t touch it. You can look at it but don’t touch it.” Continue reading “The Zombie Mole”
As I sit at my desk and write these words, the light from a glorious moon illuminates the garden outside my bedroom window. The hall clock struck midnight a few seconds ago. I fear what may be lurking in the night. Terror has become my constant companion; dread drives the flutter and race of my heart. I cannot find the knife! If it comes to pass that I should not live to see the morning light, I am now resolved to record the madness of the last few months in my journal here. May I find the strength to complete my tale before it is too late! Continue reading “The Demon Knife”
Karen Lee Kleis 