Sometimes Beautiful Things

Short Stories

I don't sit down and write stories very often.  In fact, aside from this website and emails, I might go a couple of years without writing anything worth saving.  But then an idea will come, and more importantly, the desire to write will come along with it, and a story will pretty much write itself. 

Most of my stories focus on a single, simple idea.  Perhaps wondering what it must feel like to know the exact time you will die.  Or how do you know that you are in love?  Or perhaps with more difficulty, how do you know you are out of it?  Those are seemingly simple questions, simple situations, but they can mean the difference between happiness and despair.  These are a few stories written while thinking about those sorts of things.  Those sometimes terrible, but also sometimes beautiful things.

If you like any of them, great.  I didn't write them for you, though.  Don't take that personally.  It's just that ultimately, they are for me.

Selling the Sky

One of these days I’ll also write a story about death and young love.  The story will be about two people so right for each other in a world so incredibly wrong about love.  They will buy the sky, and when the rain comes, one of them will sell it.

A Sometimes Beautiful Thing

Sometimes I would sit on the threshold of the front door. I would stare down the street and watch every car that passed by. One day you might be in one of those cars. I wanted that to happen so much.

The Least Possible Moment

Taking his pistol out of the holster, he announced to the men, "I have never killed a man before without first looking him in the eyes. Isn't that correct, Corporal?"

Afloat By Urging

"You can't throw love in there just yet. You want to know if we know each other enough to take that step. Love and knowing each other are two different things."

A Father's Answer

He took his son to the river. The thin dirt road bent and gave way to sparse grass, small flat stones and mud. The red sun just barely reached down to the trees, trying to find its way to the earth. The shadows swam slowly across the running water. The boy jumped from the truck as his father watched him go.

Not to Remember

She had called herself "lonely" then. Of course the voice that had said that word was strong with the knowledge that in fact she wasn't alone, and was filled with the faith that she never would be again. She hadn't realized that she didn't even know what the word could mean.

Beyond His Experience

Jody looked down and saw how far away the great roots were. From high above they looked like fingers at the end of a long arm, grabbing a handful of the tough land. From up here he had perspective. Down there he seemed to have nothing but questions.

Last update: 4/26/2005; 10:15:35 PM.