My team and I enter the deserted house. We hear screaming, pounding on the basement door. We open it, and Ginny flies out. She pumps her wings and bumps up against the ceiling. I lift my arms, call her name …
Puberty is rarely kind and mine was no exception. I raced past voluptuousness and landed in the realm of fat. Not that I thought of myself as such. My reference was Diana from Anne of Green Gables who happily indulged …
When I was four, all I wanted for Christmas was a Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven. I told my parents, my grandparents, and anyone else who would listen.
At the time, I didn’t know what being poor was, or …
I grew up worrying—I learned from a pro. My mother, an incessant worrywart, wore the moniker proudly, as if it bestowed legitimacy and dignity to her proclivity/affliction. She worried about my father, a morose drinker and sometimes philanderer. She worried …
The falling snow drifted across the university grounds. Lili removed her dressing gown and crawled into her bed, wrapping up in a feather duvet. The wind blew the snow against the window with a soft sifting swirl.
Another long night …
Hours have gone by. The Captain sits silent on the floor in the corner of the cell, his eyes downcast. He has not said a word since the Rygian jailer left with the evidence. MacGregor sits midway along one wall …
Growing up on a farm put me in touch with nature. When I was six, we had a gray and white cat named Pandora and I understood her every sound and gesture. I could read her eyes and expressions.
One …
“Hello! Qué? What!” The squat man shouted into the phone as if the volume would increase the chances of him being understood. The red light from the control panel in the pilot house lit his scowling Mayan face against the …
Being late for my Econ-385 final exam is bad.
Not knowing where the exam is taking place is worse.
Realizing I am also bare-ass naked completes the misery trifecta, causing me to duck behind the hedges outside Ridgley Hall.
For …
When he grasps, he gasps. Then you know he knows.
Ron. Lavalette is a widely published writer living on Vermont’s Canadian border. His first chapbook, Fallen Away (Finishing Line Press), is now available at all standard outlets. More than 250 pieces of …