She wandered for what seemed like forever, picking through the racks of skull skulptures and skull wine holders, skull key chains, skull mandolins, skull chaise lounges, skull guillotines, skull pendulums, skull jack-in-the-boxes.
Our room was bitter cold and no manner of warmth from the fireplace could chase away the chill, so snuggling deep into the pillows on the antique canopy bed was just the ticket. The moaning from the hallways really helped my husband get to sleep in the absence of his white noise generator.
Mom lifted her arms and all the cutlery leapt from the drawers. A few stray forks impaled the zucchini she’d been slicing before the ruckus began.
It crawled out of its own pan on nine legs
What can you do but scramble for shore?
Her trailer looked abandoned, and some people said she didn’t exist at all (particularly when they couldn’t find her in the winter; Jeffers Wilkerson said she must…… Read more “The Snake Woman of Bismark”
Old toasters, broken Rolex watches, reclaimed pallets, Prada bags shredded by biting winds and hail storms, cracked cell phone casings, hamster cages, Ed Hardy shirts hung up…… Read more “The Things in Ozymandias’ Shack”