Short Stories

He was horsing around on the railroad track. Packie, one of the guys who’d been playing basketball with him, said he was showing off. He said that later, Packie did.

She fell off the roof in an impossible way.
Jack realized that as soon as the memory registered. If it was a memory.

Indivisible's Turn Purple 2 Blue published my latest short story, The Man With the Signs. Christine Brown of Indivisible writes: "Use this story as a conversations starter to inspire someone who is not paying attention."

Everybody in the Social Security Office heard the guy talking to himself. Or maybe he was singing.

The two women speaking Spanish, probably mother and daughter, looked anxiously at each. The heavy guy behind us stopped talking about how it was better with Trump and looked over at the guy.

So some of us were wondering about him, even before the incident. He was kind of twitchy, a little beat-up looking. He hadn’t shaved recently. He wore a leather jacket over a red T-shirt.

He missed his numbe

“There’s some guys, they should never get out. You wouldn’t want ’em out, believe me. You ever saw ’em, you’d know it.”

Marty Harris said that to a group of students in a night class I’d been teaching. It was $800.00 per semester on top of my day job, which was bringing white kids from the suburbs to the city to work on educational projects with Black kids. Eleven thousand a year I got for that, plus gas. Those were the days. Or some of them, anyway.

“It was almost like a shadow,” Amanda said, though she knew that wasn’t right. Even as she said it, she knew.

I knew her. When we spoke about what she was experiencing, it seemed unusual.