My dead grandfather won’t let me sleep at night. He’s highjacked my Amazon Echo and tortures me at all hours of the night. “Alexa, stop playing music,” I say to the dark of my room as Johnny Cash belts cry, cry, cry. It isn’t the
For half a moment, my brother finally stands fully upright, his arms in perfect T-pose for balance. David looks royal, stiff posture, but also perfectly poised, relaxed, like he’s commanding the swells to rise and recede with his downturned palms; the surfboard glides in the
DING DING DING Out in the hallway, the woman with the sour smoker’s face is ringing a bell mounted on the wall next to the nurse’s station. It looks like the bell you ring to signal you’ve had enough of Navy SEAL training. I want
Our new Chevy van is tan. It has four hot, sticky houndstooth plastic seats and a nest of wool blankets that smell like antique wax and alcohol solution. My dad uses these blankets to protect furniture he repairs and delivers to rich people. He makes
From a distance, it is beautiful. A sparkling blue body of water in the blazing hot California desert. Mountains in the distance. Date palms. The shoreline is white, but it’s not sand you crunch beneath your hiking boots (this is no beach for flip-flops),
I don’t remember agreeing to it. I was only eight years old, but this mattered not, because there was no escaping it. We were off to Crestbrook Bible Camp in the Pocono Mountains with my father’s Bible-thumping family. A two-week retreat surrounded by a picturesque
My little brother and mother both smirk as my grandfather asks me to pray before we eat. I put down the green olive I had almost popped into my mouth and say “sure,” with a facial expression that feigns joy at saying the blessing while
I carve the eastern Kentucky hills with my girlfriend’s hatchback. I’m following the same roads the Dukes of Hazzard drove with their 1969 Dodge Charger named General Lee. I see the rebel flag, the Dixie flag, and the Southern Cross flying from houses and small
I met an FBI agent once. Tess and I opened the door to find a woman in a grey peacoat and a low ponytail. She looked about mid-20’s, medium height, and frazzled. “Hello?” Tess said. The floor creaked as I peered over her shoulder. “Hi,
Evidence I know why I care about your final resting place. I’ve never found one suitable on this earth. I’m estranged from your impulses, and I’ve envious of your solitude. All the words in the world don’t soothe me. What was last night’s dream is