Foxes

By ADMIN | Published: MARCH 1, 2015

Sunday was special for the whole family. They rode the horse-drawn wagon down a rutted,
bumpy road to the old fishermans cabin by the sea. The father carried their weekend bags into
the bedrooms while the children pedaled around on wooden trikes the fisherman had carved in
the old days. Mother put tea on and opened all the windows. By the afternoon the kids would be
exploring, sometimes up by the abandoned lighthouse, sometimes in the second floor
crawlspace. The dog, a blue-eyed Australian sheepdog, would either be along for the adventure
with the children or sitting at the hearth, presiding over the cabin.
Today was no different from any other Sunday and the family was spread out when the storm
came in. The little boy and girl were up top the lighthouse, lying on their stomachs telling rude
stories. The mother rested in the cabin with a book on the daybed by the window. The father was
using one of the fishermans ancient scythes to cut some grass by the back shed and the dog lay
nearby.
The sky turned an ugly violet and then almost black before unleashing massive torrents of rain.
The father made a run for the house, arriving at the front door soaked to the bone, holding his
dripping scythe. They put wood in the stove and lit all the candles, waiting for the children. The
dog kept vigil at the front door, growling. What are you on about? Its just Mother Nature, said
the mother.
Gods angry about something, said the father, tamping his pipe with a pie-nail.Dont say
that, said the mother.
Why shouldnt he be? Theres a lot to be angry about, the father said, walking through a cloud of
his own pipe smoke on the way to the front door. Whats all this?
On the lawn outside the front door, in the rain, there were maybe fifteen or twenty foxes,
bedraggled, all sitting and staring in at them. The dogs growl didnt let up. Just then there was a
terrific thunderclap and the father jumped, his pipe falling and breaking on the wood
floor. Marty! the mother called, rushing to stand behind him. The rain poured down and it
became suddenly dark as night outside.
Im going up to the lighthouse, the father said. Ill bring the kids back. But he didnt move from
where he stood. Well go together, the mother said.
You stay dry, the father finally said, pulling on his mackintosh over a heavy coat. Im taking
this, he said, picking up the scythe. The dog followed him out into the night and the mother stood
alone by the door, her eyes straining to see into the blackness. There was lightening and a
powerful thunder blast and she saw the silhouettes of the foxes still there. Go away, she
whispered.
Soon the foxes were scratching right at the door and howling with terrible, shrill, almost human
voices. The mother backed toward the kitchen and took a long blade from the knife block. To get
away from their howling she moved into the back of the cabin and finally up the ladder into the
crawlspace. She lay up there, trying not to doze off, holding the knife to her breast and listening
to what sounded like a hundred babies crying outside.

Her eyes closed and she dreamt of waking in the morning when the storm had moved on. In her
dream the windows of the cabin had all been smashed, leaving wet puddles and broken glass.
Her dream self walked up the stone path to the lighthouse and entered the stone building. All the
way up the winding stairs she called the names of her husband and children.
When she got to the circular lantern room she found her family surrounded by the foxes in an
odd tableau. Weve become friends, the father said, his hand resting on the withers of a large fox.
The children giggled, staring at her strangely. The dog lay with its head down, eyes following her
movements. GET THEM OUT OF HERE, she wanted to say but shed lost her voice. She went to
lift the scythe but she found it was much too heavy for her. As she struggled with the scythe she
was pulled out of her dream by her real-life husband shaking her by the shoulders. Wake up, the
children are waiting outside in the wagon, he said. Theres another storm coming so wed best
leave now.
Dawn was just rising as the horse drew their wagon up the hill and out of the valley. A lone fox
watched the family depart as once again the drops of rain started to fall.

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The Artisan
By ADMIN | Published: FEBRUARY 28, 2015

The artisan appeared small in the middle of the giant mosaic, face almost touching his work,
moving an inch an hour across the courtyard. The princess watched him from her balcony as he
crouched down, laying out the tiny tiles in an abstract pattern. He was like a hunched animal
grazing on a field of green and blue squares.
Once she threw down one of her diamond earrings just to see what would happen. He continued
placing tiles even as the second earring pelted off the rags on his back.
Why are you watching him? one of the ladies-in-waiting asked from the doorway.
Hes meticulous, she said.
Hes an animal, the lady said. Come have tea.
I wont.
Suit yourself. The lady was gone. The princess took a gold coin from her purse and threw it down
so it landed right in front of the artisan. By the third one the artisan stopped laying out tiles and
picked the coin up with his dirty fingers. It glinted in the sunlight. He turned his head and looked
back over his shoulder, up at the princess. She stared down. They stared at each other, frozen for
minutes. Eventually the princess rose and withdrew back into her chambers.
This scene repeated itself every day for weeks. As time passed the mosaic turned from an abstract
color study into a giant portrait of the princesses staring face. But when he got to her neck the

tiles turned blood red with her elegant fingers clutching her throat. There were drips of blood
laid out in tile staining her tile dress. Thats horrid, the queen said. I wont have it. Well have
him executed.
No, we wont, the princess said. But the queen was gone, and the artisan was overpowered by all
the kings men and dragged to the dungeon. The princess left her room for the first time in weeks
and went down to the courtyard to see the unfinished morbid masterpiece up close. Some unused
tiles were scattered along with the artisans tools. She picked up the trowel and ran her fingers
over the blade. Then, with a sudden motion, she drew it quickly across her throat. The ladies all
came running as blood sprayed from her neck. Their gowns soaked in crimson as they lifted her
from her knees and dragged her bleeding to the kings physician, who tried to stanch the blood.
For days the princess lay in recovery, neck wrapped in bandages. The king had the courtyard
paved over with cobblestones. At night the princess walked to her balcony and stared down at the
empty courtyard, her face pale and gaunt. One night she stole down the stairs and continued all
the way to the south tower where a long hallway led to the dungeon. She moved quietly down the
hall, her bare feet on the cold stone, blood-stained bandages trailing behind her. When she
reached the door she stopped and pressed her face against it, listening. Someones breath rasped
on the other side of the thick oak. Suddenly there was a scream from inside that sounded
demonic and the princess started, almost falling. But she went and fetched the keys from the
jailers hook and twisted them in the lock all the same.
When she opened the door she could just make out a figure in the darkness, crouched and
staring up at her. They locked eyes and the princess remained motionless as the figure rose to his
feet. She could see it was the artisan but he was scarred and bearded now with a strange fire in
his eyes. He stood before her in his dirty rags, his hair wild.
You and I will rule this kingdom, she said in thin voice. Come with me. She turned and he
limped after her, down the hallway and up the stairs to the royal chambers, stopping only to get
his sharpened trowel along the way.

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No Talking
By ADMIN | Published: FEBRUARY 27, 2015

My brother-in-laws parents were driving us back to their house and my wife Cheri was trying to
fill in the empty spaces with conversation. What was most awkward was talking around my
brother-in-laws disappearance, and my wifes sisters strange behavior. Weve been doing a lot
of gardening lately, my wife was saying.
We sure have, I said.
Were growing cabbage, Brussels sprouts, carrots, marigolds
Squash.
Yes, squash. Tons of squash. Its kind of taken over.
If you want any squash I offered.

Oh, no, the dad said.

Are you sure? I asked. Because.
Oh, no, we dont eat squash, the dad told us.
What Monty means is hes got a health condition that prevents him from eating What are
those types of vegetables called? Come on, Monty, its on the tip of my tongue!
Gourds? I offered.
I dont like them. I dont eat that, he said.
Well, thats okay, you dont have to, I said. We actually have many other vegetables that youll
love. We have
I dont eat vegetables from someones garden, Monty said.
He doesnt eat vegetables, the mom said. You never have, right Monty? Since you were a boy?
When I was a boy I ate them. I did a lot of things then. That sure doesnt mean I do that
now. That quieted down the car for a while. We were all lost in thought. I cracked the window.
Have you always lived out here in East Texas? my wife asked. But the silence continued. Finally
the mom said, Monty, she asked you a question. When he didnt answer she shook his shoulder.
Then we started hearing these odd whimpering noises. I didnt know where they were coming
from, mainly because I couldnt picture them coming from him. Then he drove onto the shoulder
and we bumped along for a while before he came to a rough stop on the side of the highway. Hes
taken this real hard, the mom said.
William is not missing, he said. I would have liked to see my face when he said that. At this point
I was imagining grabbing my wifes arm and us taking off across the cornfield.
Hes not missing. We took him back, Monty said.
You did? I asked.
Texas did.
Texas did?
Get out of my car.
Okay, I said, looking to my wife. But she stayed seated.
You mean hes not missing? You know where he is? she asked.
I dont. I have no idea where my son is. But Texas knows. Texas doesnt let go of her children.
She keeps em. He locked his fingers together.
I opened my door. Okay.
A state, even a state like Texas does not take people or keep people, my wife told him.
Come on Cher, he asked us to leave, I said.
What? And be stranded out here in the cornfield? she asked. No, put the car in gear, Monty.
Youre going to drive us back to civilization. NOW! Go ahead! Start the car!
Start the car, honey, the mom said.
I re-shut my door and it became more quiet. Then I heard the engine start up and we were rolling
again.
He dropped us in front of an old drugstore in town. Then they all hugged each other but I hung
back. Alright, lets find a phone with service, I said when their car was gone. The clerk at the
store looked just like our missing brother-in-law.You know, you look like someone we know, I
said. My wife gave me a cold stare.
I get that a lot, he said. Im a familiar face. He laughed.

Then I was with my wife out front sitting on the curb drinking sodas like I used to do as a boy in
front of our store in Jersey. This tastes good, I said of the sugary soda. It actually tastes good for
a change.
She had a cigarette going but she put it out. I dont want to talk anymore, she said. Okay, I
said. No talking.
We didnt say anything as morning traffic picked up right in front of us. But a big smile widened
on my face. It widened and widened until I finally felt good again.

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Frankies Take
By ADMIN | Published: FEBRUARY 26, 2015

But I thought I could have three of them, Sally said, shifting and tilting her head
slightly. Three. She held up three fingers. There was a quiet as the mist rose up over the
graveyard.
No, I never said that. Frankie looked at her and then back to his sandcastle made of dirt. No, its
always been two. Sally raised her shovel over his sand castle. Dont do that, he said.
I will, she said. She felt her mouth stretch into a grin. You never helped me, Frankie! Never! She
toppled dirt spires and flattened dirt parapets. Frankie stood and watched her, getting sprayed
with dirt as she swung the heavy shovel wildly. Then he took hold of it but she was ready for him
and they wrestled, both gripping the shovel tight. They pushed and pulled until she slipped and
Frankie was over her, forcing the handle toward her neck. You always make me overdo
things, he said.
The wood of the shovel was just touching her throat when at the last second she gave him a
vicious kick to the leg and twisted the shovel out of his grasp. She yanked the shovel free and
gave his head a sound whack with the blade. He slipped and fell right down into the open grave.
As he lay there she shoveled and shoveled furiously until he was covered.
As the sky took on light she was still shoveling, finally patting down the mound when the 8:15
could be heard blowing its whistle on its way into the city.
Sally was on the next train, her dirty hands deep in the pockets of her coat. When the porter
asked for a ticket she said, No, ma-am, I have no ticket. But I have lots and lots of money. How
much you want? And she grinned her grin, holding out a handful of Frankies take. The porter
glanced over his shoulder before taking the whole handful.
Can I have your ticket please? he asked the next passenger, further down the car.Tickets please!

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The Wires
By ADMIN | Published: FEBRUARY 25, 2015

The wires around his wrists cut into his skin, kept him awake, and glowed at night. Raccoon was
still out in the hills, watching him and the others probably on an old iPad taken from one of the
original species. He could just see Raccoon now, tracing the trails left by the little green dots on
the screen and tapping with her chipped fingernails on the cracked console. Martyd been
wearing a heavy, lead helmet and a lead neck brace but he could still feel her tracking him and he
was sure it was through the wires.
When he got to the stream he disrobed and pushed off into the cold water. It tasted metallic. The
wires on his wrists were still glowing, even underwater. He tried to swim deep down and drown
himself but each time he tried he floated right back up and popped out, sputtering, into the
daylight.
Why didnt you follow me? It was Scout. He saw her reflection in the water but her actual body
was invisible. You could have still made it. He dunked down and tried to reach the bottom.
Again, up, and coughing out the dirty water. Scout was gone but there was a white dog on shore
sniffing around where hed left his clothes. The dog bit into the cotton and dragged the pieces
off. Hey! Marty shouted. HEY!
By the time he got to shore the dog was gone and there were only a few torn scraps left of his
garments. He sat in the gravelly mud and scanned up and down the beach. There was one of the
abandoned turrets at one end and he strode off in that direction, stark naked.
The turret was mossy stone, with the barrel of its gun aimed out over the water at the memory of
enemy armadas that used to come down from Hedden. Marty pulled a rusty metal ring attached
to the turret door and it swung open. There was a rush of cold smoke. Marty stepped inside but
immediately the wrist wires heated to the point of burning and he shouted, RACCOON!
RACCOON! Take your damn wires! But no one was in there and the door slammed shut behind
him.
From outside the turret banging and scratching could be heard. The white dog walked by and
sniffed the slit under the door. Finally the noise quieted down.

When it was night Raccoon came down from he hills in her Jeep. She jumped out and took an M16 from the Jeeps rear storage compartment. She leaned her shoulder against the wooden
door. You ready, Marty? He was quiet. Ready?
She unclipped a small plastic box from her belt. She slid open its cover and pressed a red button.
There was a shout from inside the turret. Then Raccoon kicked the door in. When the smoke
cleared there was Marty, naked, standing still and looking at her with piercing red eyes. Wrists
glowing. She aimed the M-16 at his stomach. You coming? The white dog was back and looked in
at Marty.
With some karate he knocked the gun out of her hand. But the white dog leapt and tore through

his supple neck. After an ugly struggle Marty lay on the floor bleeding and the dog limped away.
Raccoon had her gun again and aimed it down at Martys temple. You coming, Marty?
She had to shoot him though in the end and she hoisted his corpse into the back of her jeep. The
white dog pulled itself up into the seat beside her, licking at its wounds.
As Raccoon drove back up the hill, Martys eyes popped open. The electric current spiked from
the wire on his wrists and he convulsed. He sat bolt upright. Raccoon looked back and their eyes
locked. Marty asked: What would you like, Master?

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Sabotage
By ADMIN | Published: JANUARY 22, 2015

Stahne slid into the missile compartment and pulled the titanium panel closed. Red numbers
flashed by on a display directly in front of his face. There was the smell of gunpowder and Indian
curry. He suspected Markil had been enjoying curry in the missile before being dragged out by
the Teltas.
The timer appeared to speed up when it got to the single digits, and once it reached zero
everything exploded, blowing the launcher to hell.
Why the missile never left the turret was anyones guess. The detonation was partial- Stahne was
roasted, but alive. When the Telta creatures found him he lay face down on the burnt metal,
plastic melted into his skin. The plastic had welded metal shards to his arms and legs and head,
giving him the appearance of a spiked monster and as he lurched to his feet the creatures drew
back.
He made it to the decontamination doors, pressed a few buttons before the burnt skin of his back
was punctured by a thousand tiny arrows. The Telta creatures didnt like anyone employed by the
government and, even though he was just a Necturus worker, he qualified.
You poor dear, Maximussa cooed, gliding from the outer office in tight grey overalls as he
staggered toward her, his mouth welded shut by plastic. She closed the decontamination doors
with a tap of her nail before the next volley of tiny arrows tinked on the glass and clattering to the
ground just outside. Lousy creatures, she hissed at them. Where are your manners?
Stahne fell, in slow motion, crashing and double-bouncing on the slick metal floor. When he
landed bits and pieces of shrapnel shot off in all directions and Maximussa covered her eyes.
He was out cold for the next several hours and she carefully picked out the broken metal and
plastic shards, cutting some away with an X-Acto knife. There was minimal bleeding and soon a

naked slab of a government employee lay before her.

Why he started, coming back to life.
Why did I help you? Well, darling, its the least I can do. After all, it was your father who
developed the plans for the first manned Necturus missile launch and without him wed all still
be in the rainforest with the bamboo and the bad monkeys. Frankly, I couldnt be more grateful
to your father and your brothers, and, by extension, you.
She stood over him, watching as his eyes found hers. Im a wreck, he said.
I know you are.
He got to his feet and she helped steady him down the hallway. I dont know what went
wrong, he said. The timer? The osphometeric?
It was me, Stahne. I stopped it, she whispered. You? he tried to pull away but she held him fast.
Yes, I didnt want you to blow up with that bomb. I wanted you for myself. And for Russia. His
bare feet slid on the metal, his skin a network of scars and gashes. He wrestled her back against
the wall. I think I love you, he said. And they kissed, neither of them hearing the gunfire or the
dull thumps of explosions in the distance.

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Elated
By ADMIN | Published: NOVEMBER 9, 2014

When I got older living in a radiation shelter out West my mother took to visiting me. But it
wasnt my mother now, it was my mother when she was fifteen, my 1950s mother. When she still
wore makeup and had her hair done. She rapped her knuckles on my metal door and the sun
burst in when I opened it. She was slight with intense eyes and coal black hair. Shed sit and play
the piano while I made myself a drink, watching the radiation levels rise and fall on the various
readouts. Id offer her a soda and shed give me an odd look, fingers still moving on the keys.
Last Tuesday when my young mother went to leave I gave her a science fiction paperback- one
that I remember her reading to us when we were kids. She took it and laughed, dropping it into
her leather purse. Id never seen my mother with a purse or anything made out of leather. I guess
shed shed those things later. I closed the door gently and heard the gravel crunch under the tires
of her car as she left.
When I was fifteen myself I remember waiting outside the house of my future daughter, me
smoking a cigarette, hung over. I wore steel-capped boots and the same exact plaid shirt every
day that Id taken from my fathers storage in the attic. I finished a bottle of beer, set it beside the
steps, and rapped on the metal door.
She wasnt home yet so I sat and waited. Her dog, a big, fierce-looking three-headed mastiff,
rested all three of its heads on my thigh and stared up at me until I scratched behind its ears.

When my adult daughter returned in a convertible with her new husband and some loud friends
I lost my nerve and slunk back down the porch, crouching behind an Adirondack chair as the
merry group bustled into the house.
But when I left I found myself feeling elated -just at seeing her having such a good time. I strolled
down the dirt road alongside the cornfield, bobbing my head to punk rock on my headphones
and thumbed a ride all the way back to the city.

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Some View
By ADMIN | Published: NOVEMBER 8, 2014

Theres a book called How to Stop Crime in Your City you should read it. It was one of the
cornerstones of my early political ambitions. Royhde crossed to the door. There are certain
patterns that become self-fulfilling prophesies.
Thanks, Ill have to read that one. Maybe on the plane.
No, dont read it on the plane. Read it now. Tonight. Your people are being locked up for no
reason. They are being attacked and robbed for no reason. They need to be more Relaxed. Get
control of your city.
Im just a figurehead.
Dont say that. Bruce Lee wasnt a figurehead.
He wasnt a politician.
What have I taught you about politics in what, how many years? Forty? Thirty? Politician are
street fighters. Politics is an arcade game and each year in office is another quarter you play.
You get four quarters. Or in your case, one. I stared at Royhde. Maybe he was right. How many
people would be killed or made miserable in my city tonight? Could I be Bruce Lee?
I cant be Bruce Lee, I told him. I just cant.
Then your city will break like a stick! He took one of the plastic hotel pens and snapped it in
half, getting some ink droplets on his hand. I turned toward the window and looked out over the
spires and shining squares of light. There had been sirens going all night in my city but they were
gone now and there was only the drone of the hotel air systems. Read it, he said, pointing at me
with his ink-splotched hand. Then he was gone.
I walked over to the bedside table but instead of reading How to Stop Crime in Your City I
pulled the drawer and lifted out the Gideons Bible. Just then there was a gunshot and I fell
forward onto my knees and then onto the carpet, bleeding all over the pages. While I convulsed,
a masked teenager stepped over my body and went to the balcony. Check this out, he said to an
accomplice. Hes got some view.

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Out in the Woods

By ADMIN | Published: OCTOBER 14, 2014

Branches scraped against the outside of the car and some dry leaves blew by. Jam and Mal sat in
the back, each close to their own window, staring out and waiting for Mom and Dad to come
back. There was what looked like a white wolf sniffing around the car but Mal said it was
probably just a dog. All the doors were locked. When did Mom and Dad say they were coming
back? Jam asked. For the tenth time, TWENTY MINUTES. Mal picked twenty minutes because
she thought it sounded like a long time. But they really hadnt said. Mom had said something
like, Stay right here and dont leave the car. And then their parents had left, locking the car with
the keys that they took with them.
Did the wolf go away? I dont see him.
Jam! I keep telling you, its a dog not a wolf! There are no wolves here!
But did he go away?
If you dont see him, he probably went away. The sun seemed brighter as it sunk closer to the
ridge and the leafless tree branches became black, spindly lace against the sky.
Im gonna open the door and see if hes still out there.
You better not, Jam. They said do not open the doors.
No, they did not. They just said to stay in the car. Jam unlocked his door and pulled the inside
door handle.
JAM!
Im just going to shut it right away if I see him! Jam said. Mal slid over and pulled the door back
shut. Mal, youre an asshole.
They want us inside here for a reason!
I wasnt going outside.
You better not be. They sat quietly for a while, looking out. The car was some two hundred yards
from the road, in the middle of the trees.
I think I see him over there, Jam said. Where? Jam pointed at something white out among the
bare trees. It seemed to be coming toward the car. They both sat side-by-side and stared. It didnt
move like a dog or a wolf. It seemed to drag lightly on the brown leaves, floating just above. The
sun was lower in the sky now, touching the ridge, burning orange.
When did you say Mom and Dad were coming back? How many minutes? Jam sat completely
still. Mal re-locked Jams door. They heard something that sounded like an animal alternately
whimpering and growling very close to the car.
Mal leaned up into the front seat and opened the glove compartment. She found a corkscrew and
opened it so its sharp tip pointed out. She gave it to Jam. He took it in his little hand and aimed it
at the thing out his window. He watched as it hovered and slowly dragged towards them. Mal
went back through the glove compartment and dug through a manual, tissues, and some pens.
Then she went through the door pockets. She felt under the seats. Hey, she said. Jam looked at
her without moving his head. Look what I found. She held up a small black pistol from under the

drivers seat. She smiled at Jam and he gave a weird half-smile back.
The animal noises were getting louder. It sounded like it was under the car. The sun was gone
now and everything was dark grey. The tree bark blended into the leaves covering the ground.
The white thing now just hung suspended in the air about twenty feet from the car. It seemed to
have a white head shape and wispy fabric flowing underneath. Mal held the pistol with both
hands now. She aimed it through the glass. Roll down your window, she whispered. Jam looked
at her with wide eyes. Roll it down just for a second. She cocked the gun. With one hand still
tight on the corkscrew, Jam rolled his window down a crack. As soon as it was about a quarter
down Mal fired and it sounded like a bomb had gone off. Now the white thing was right up
against the car, undulating folds all around them, streaked with blood, and there was a dull
banging on the roof. Roll it up!Mal shouted. He rolled the window up but the glass had a spidery
crack going through it now. The thumping got louder on the roof.
Then it felt like the car was moving. It bumped around and they heard the wheels breaking twigs
and branches as they rolled. Mal tore the tissue from the glove compartment and they both
stuffed pieces in their ears. Then she and Jam huddled together. She fired the gun up at the roof
where the pounding was coming from. BANG BANG BANG!
The white fabric blew away from the windows and it was now just black night outside. A dark
liquid dripped down from the bullet holes in the roof. The car radio began to play a commercial
jingle. But something didnt sound right about the commercial. The singing gave way to a
hacking cough and then barking and snarling and static. Well go out and find where Mom and
Dad went, said Mal. They stared at each other, neither one moving. Then she took Jams hand.
He held his corkscrew in the other.
Mal unlocked her door and they stepped out onto the dry leaves together. Dont worry Jam, Mal
said, holding up the gun. I know theres more bullets left. The dry leaves crackled as they walked.
They headed in the direction of the road.