The wind howled through the San Gabriel Mountains and pushed right up into every crack and crevice of the chilly old mapmaker’s house.
Ben’s taking four residents to walk on the loose-dirt path behind the Children’s Home when they spot it: a grey parrot in a skeletal tree, the ribbon of a yellow balloon tied to its feet.
They’ve finally done it, found a way to kill us all. This is how my father greets me on the phone this morning. “It’s on Channel 7,” he says.
Mwela has a lot of theories. He tells you about them each night after dinner, after the fish fryers have cooled and the last of the ugali is scraped from the tabletops...
Everyone thinks my thirteen-year-old sister can predict the weather.
Aiden weighed 104 pounds and the gap between his front teeth seemed to widen every time he checked with his tongue. He had a place that belonged to him in a private and warm way: Byhalia, Mississippi.
Reina was six years old when her father took her up the long winding mountain road to see the dying Giant.
We started with the little things: scraps of junk, things of no import or stuff we could do without.
A story begins with a woman sitting at her kitchen table at 7 a.m., having just received a call from the police.
I'm awakened by a prodding wet dog nose again, because Princess or Precious or whatever has to piss and shit.
Carlton is huge. Even for a Great Pyrenees, known for their size and snowy fur like a fresh avalanche, he is colossal.