Telling Stories

Regret is Looking in Your Mother's Mirror as the Summer Starts to Fade

Jack lifts his head from the crook of his arm. Across the counter, he spies a bartender’s face reflected in the mirror behind shelves of liquor.

The Harrier and the Mouse

Crystal is hunkered down in her bed writing, and tonight, like every other night, she is pretending she is on safari, deep in the wilds of Africa.

Confessions of a Born Again

It’s Friday night. I’m sitting on the top bunk singing The Old Rugged Cross. I love that hymn, especially the part in the chorus where you get to sing up high. My younger sister, Karen, is asleep or she’s being quiet and not talking for once. We don’t call her Chatty Cathy for nothing. Mommy and Daddy are playing cards with Bernie and Lilly Fowler in the kitchen. I keep hoping they hear me.

The Trouble with Variety

The hot Oklahoma summer is drawing to a close. Tomorrow the doors to Moore Elementary will swing open, and at recess the dusty playground across the street from Ruby’s house will thunder with the sounds of running feet.