"Would you like to go and see the fields, Jenny?" Ellen asked her. They were clearing the breakfast plates into a sink full of soapy water when she said this, and the question seemed sudden and out of context. Jennifer supposed it was just a thoughtless question to break up the silence, for she realized…
Packing up, a new swing around a lamp post and down the gummy street each step has a trash can has a wall with a window with curtains has a railing and a pair of legs rising from high heels up and up on through her shoulders up above the rooftops. Night lit like a…
For more than twenty years now, Gina Berriault has been writing remarkably sensitive and powerful fiction. Her style is lucid, lyrical and very much her own, and she seems to have any number of strategies for breaking your heart. The first Gina Berriault story I ever read, long ago, let me know at once that…
There was a man when I was fourteen who came to our house to dig out the ditch. I was at the age when boredom was as thick as the mud at the bottom of the river and everything – my mother, my father, the road, the house, the barn, all the trees that I…
The girl and the elderly man descended the steep stairs to the channel's narrow beach and walked along by the water's edge. Several small fishing boats were moving out to sea, passing a freighter entering the bay, booms raised, a foreign name at her bow. His sturdy hiking boots came down flatly on the firm…
I would like to take it all back, this suit doesn’t belong to me. I’m the undercover man, an agent transferred to a far district. What I fear is a murmur from across the fields, the giant leech that just slid over the porch railing. If I listen to the singer — it’s a state…
We have been there and seen nothing Nothing has been there for us to see In what a beautiful silence the death is inflicted In a dazzling distance in the fresh dews And morning lights how radiantly In the glistening the village is wasted. It is by such sights the eye is instructed
Peter Jackman and Jo Morrison were both divorced, and had been lovers since winter. She knew much about his marriage, as he did about hers, and at times it seemed to Peter that their love had grown only from shared pain. His ex-wife Norma, had married and moved to Colorado last summer, and he had…
for my aunt The water is dark and cold and I can hold it. I drink from my hands. You are out of my reach, your eyes closed holding only a thin blue light. Moss darkens my window, covering the sky like hair. Here, we can’t see the moon. It views you from the head…
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