Short Stories

Last Words.

I hope you die. That was the last thing you said to me. And then I did. My heart just shriveled up and crumbled like ashes. But unlike the Phoenix or Jesus, it didn’t rise again. Instead, I was pronounced dead and buried a week later. I was buried in the beautiful blue prom dress… Continue reading Last Words.

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Short Stories

Beyond the Face.

She injected the transaction with politeness and respect as the cashier scanned her large cookie, hot Cheetos, gummy bears, and liter of grape soda. That sweetness she was pinched for as a kid if she didn’t do is what ignited what the cashier said next. “Thank you,” she smiled, shamefully grabbing her bag of snacks.… Continue reading Beyond the Face.

Short Stories

Different Shades of Black.

He sat at the bar with his buddies, hovering over a watered-down shot of patron he’s been taking sips of all night. His friends were taking shot after shot after shot, but he was working on the same shot and bottle of beer all night. She didn’t like him to drink. She was supposed to… Continue reading Different Shades of Black.

Short Stories

Black-handed

He stared at me, hidden and protected by all the dropped heads looking at their phones in the crowd. He looked like an officer, but most white men do to me. He had a gun snuggling against his hip though. But he didn’t have a uniform on, just a faded shirt that said FBI: Female… Continue reading Black-handed

Short Stories

In a Storage Closet in Paris.

He couldn’t see her in the tiny storage closet, but he could smell her. She smelled like home. Not his home, which reeked of greasy pizza boxes and inside-out underwear, but home. She smelled of sweet pea body wash and the mint chocolate-chip gum she always kept a pack of in her purse. That was… Continue reading In a Storage Closet in Paris.

Short Stories

Undercover and Armed.

I’m not racist but, who was that lunatic? I should have thrown his hands behind his back and frisked him. But then people would accuse me of racial profiling. There’s been enough war between white cops and the black community. I didn’t want to deal with the heat I would receive for questioning this dangerous… Continue reading Undercover and Armed.

Short Stories

Black and White.

Black. Black. Black. Black. Black. Six bodies of black hanging against the wall. Dirty eye sores in a world of clean skin. Blackness–creeping up on me like a robber under the night sky. I can’t see myself in the whiteboards, because I see all of the black smudges that people have tried to erase. That… Continue reading Black and White.

My Opinions, Short Stories

Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift

  Frog crouched down behind the couch in the dark apartment, the sunlight that shimmied into the apartment through the small cracks in the blinds illuminated the round, chocolate cake in his hands that’s finished off with cricket and mealworm confetti. His cool, green toes anxiously dug into the cherry-wood floor and fat beads of… Continue reading Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift

Short Stories

Different Drugs.

He rolled over away from her, the thick and damp lint-invaded plaid fleece clinging to his naked, red, sweaty rolls. He liked to light a cigarette after their sessions to push the musty and personal smell of body parts out of the room. After the first anxious drag of the hot mesmerizing tobacco, his stomach… Continue reading Different Drugs.

Short Stories

The Stranger with the Tupperware

I was eating alone, at a table with a view at the entrance. A stranger walked in, headed straight to my table, and said hi. No name, likes and dislikes, life purpose, mood, or anything else came after that word. Instead, he slammed his big-bellied backpack down on the woozy, wooden table making the glasses… Continue reading The Stranger with the Tupperware