“Your first paragraph is one of the VERY best I’ve read in a long time! [“Scarcity“] is filled with great sentences and phrases that embody the short story writer’s art of doing MUCH in few words, establishing the fictional vision in the reader’s mind with swiftness, accuracy: and forward motion…”
Dr. Dale Williams Barrigar; writer, poet, and professor
Looking Glass
In Another Time
June 2025
FOR YEARS AT DUSK, AND AS EARLY AS FOUR O’CLOCK on dark December afternoons, George the glassblower extended his long, knobby fingers through the dim of his workshop to find the pull chains that controlled the gas that lit his one lamp, mounted in the smoke-stained ceiling. The pull chain with the penny brightened the room with more gas. The other pull chain—with the nickel—choked it off.
Scarcity
Literally Stories
November 2024
THE FOREST HELD ITS BREATH, AND SO DID AMELIA, as she crouched in its undergrowth, heart hammering and a lump rising in her throat. She silently swore off the next fiery ache that coiled in her thighs. She listened for the delicate puff of air that would bring the spores, echoing across the pines and oaks as they descended in a curtain of death that would fell the living, leaving in their wake only the eerie, absolute silence of death.
Burn It
Five on the Fifth
October 2024
WITH DAYLIGHT FADING, ANDY CAN’T BE RATIONAL. Soon, he, Joe, and Uncle Bruce will have to flick on the hallway light. And then they’ll see.
It’s been a week since Mike pushed Mona down the stairs. Mike and Mona are Andy’s parents. Joe’s too.
Breathe
Writers Resist
October 2024
WHEN HER HUSBAND LOWERS THE NEWSPAPER AND STOPS hiding his cancer, Stacy learns that their voting rights have eroded as quickly as his health.
This Is How She Wakes
Litbreak
June 2024
WHERE SHORE ROAD MEETS BEACH STREET, SOMEONE HAS STRUNG strings of small white lights above the sidewalk. As she passes under them, Antonia watches them flicker and dim like the Christmas tree lights at Jordan Marsh in Downtown Boston, a world away from Salisbury Beach.
Close Enough?
Penumbric Speculative Fiction Mag
June 2023
“YOU WERE ALWAYS SO FAMOUS WHEN WE RODE THE SUBWAY.” Jockey’s words stop me from checking my multiverse watch. one. more. time.
“Well … not you, but her, my mom. She is … was an actress,” he adds, a moment later, like an afterthought. But I am no longer listening.
Words Left Unsaid
Idle Ink
April 2024
“Hey Bill.”
“Hey, Brad.”
Neither one thinks of something else to say so each man takes to comparing the other to the ghosts of their youth that survive in their faces.
Beth's Ghost
Rock Salt Journal
Fall 2024
MY SHITBOX FORD PINTO JERKED TO A STOP on Ebb Tide Way, with Sadie in my headlights, ocean winds whipping her hair into some frenzied thing—fully alive with ferocity, seeking escape, her eyes uncertain that I was going to stop.
I wasn’t sure either.
Sadie clenched a paper-plate taco brimming with beach pizza that she’d bought at Fia’s on the Boardwalk, probably with her last dollar bill.
Forgotten New England 