Flash Fiction: Maze

We call this place the Maze.   It doesn’t have a meandering path. It is not asymmetric. There is not a block of cheese at the end.   We call this place the Maze because it is hard to get out.   It’s not a prison, not really. In prison they feed you. In prison, … Continue reading Flash Fiction: Maze

Fiction: The Tenacious Hold

The day after Aunt Doris' funeral, my grandmother stands on the block of cement that was her front porch. My mother, my older sister, my younger brother and I stand below in tall grass, surrounded by overgrown hydrangeas. Aunt Doris loved hydrangeas, my grandmother had told us when we first arrived. The ones outside our … Continue reading Fiction: The Tenacious Hold