Anne Lynn was thirty-four years old when she decided to let the toad decide.
It was a small toad, dirt brown, slightly lumpy, and she wasn’t entirely sure in times after that it wasn’t actually several toads seen on separate occasions. Toads didn’t exactly possess distinguishing features, except perhaps to other toads. But it was, so far as she knew, the only toad, and if not there was always the whimsical thought that they probably all talked to each other in any case, especially about humans like her. Continue reading →
Another writing from 2007, written for a short story class.
The kettle on the stove whistled.
“Brian, if you would.”
Brian Sorrel looked up as Elizabeth turned, tying herself up in the white coiled phone cord. The woman was pointing urgently at the stove while she waited for the police station to take her off hold. Continue reading →
Arnold K. Albert bolted straight up in the middle of the night. Albert was an excitable fellow. He had a brain like a lightning rod, his bosses all said. It attracted things, namely ideas. He threw back the blankets and ran for his desk. Continue reading →