Tag Archives: Short Fiction

The Search (Part 2)

*** “Lauren, I need you to talk to me,” Detective Riley said after a few minutes. “How did Selah get to the arboretum?” “I don’t know.” “Did you see Selah at the arboretum?” “Yes, we played hide and seek,” I … Continue reading

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The Search (Part 1)

Detective Riley gave me a cold bottle of water and sat down in the chair across from me. The room was dim, at my request, and empty except for the table and chairs. I sniffled and my body shook, the … Continue reading

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Re-Discovering

The fog was thick when I left. I piled as much as I could into my RV, Myrtle, and headed West to Sycamore Ranch, for what I imagined would be an extended stay this time. John was still sleeping, his … Continue reading

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Winter’s Song

Before the rain had stopped, the sun was already breaking through a sky full of dark, ominous clouds. The children ran through the house screaming as light permeated thin slits in the blinds and curtains. “Can we go to the … Continue reading

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The Gift

There was just one more gift under the tree, the small square box still wrapped in brown shipping paper, its top covered with silver tinsel and tiny flashing red, blue, and green bulbs. “Whose is that?” Michael asked. “It’s for … Continue reading

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The Old Farmhouse

I walked to the end of the property and waited. My backpack on one shoulder, a small carryon next to my feet. I looked back at the old farmhouse, a two-story, twice-restored home to three generations of Malcolms, once thriving … Continue reading

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The Long Way Home

“Hold the door, please,” I yelled, bumbling down the hall with a white box topped with my things—eight years’ worth of pictures, notepads, pens, hard candy, a light sweater I kept on the back of my chair, a dusty pair … Continue reading

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Remembering

There is an enchanting melody playing in my head: a symphony of sounds dancing on my eardrums. A composition: rhythmic, melodic. Wooden sticks knocking. Soft harmony, weaving in and out, tying notes in knots. Wind instruments shouting with squeaks and … Continue reading

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Find Me…Please! (3)

Did I do the right thing by offering Bianca a place to stay? Yes. She needed help; she was in a bad way. I thought maybe she was involved with drugs when I met her. She wasn’t. She was a … Continue reading

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Find Me…Please! (2)

Olivia was born on February 12, a Saturday. I remember that day. I will always remember. It was cold and rainy. John and I were at home. I was putting the finishing touches on the nursery, double checking that the … Continue reading

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