“Y’all put that gator right back where you found him or I’ll pepper your asses with 177s.” I aimed my Daisy right at Butch, the more chicken-shit of the pair. Mitch held Dragon by the jaws while Butch tried to steady his lashing tail. “Feeding him Atomic Fireballs again, I see, which might could kill […]
Read MoreIN Summer 2018
The Santa Lucia station swarmed with security guards, choking off all water traffic. And Carlo sat sulking in his gondola, an American couple in his charge, their faces burning a bright shrimp pink as they strained to get a look at the pop star. In a reproduction of Cleopatra’s gilded barge, the diva sat on […]
Read MoreIN Summer 2017
IN Summer 2006
Toward the end of my short story “Rapture,” a small, wizened, evangelical grandmother called Meemaw, after speaking in tongues and describing the End Times in lurid detail, levitates for a few glorious seconds before plopping back down upon the stained sofa of a humble living room. Of all the supernatural feats reputedly performed by saints, […]
Read MoreBrunell Hair lived in a lopsided mill house with her mama and her uncle and her little withered-up critter of a grandmaw. In honor of her eleventh birthday, she was having a slumber party, but so far, only my best friend Bonnie and I had showed. Our mothers had had some kind of powwow, during which […]
Read MoreIN Winter 2012
