“John & the Revelator” is written in the style of 19th century cowboy diaries (including unconventional spelling/grammar) with a touch of magical realism. John Flowers treks across the western frontier from the Dakota Territory to Texas, hoping to escape the ghost of his murdered partner and a gang of cowboys hellbent on revenge. Along the... Continue Reading →
1. Surely most good Southern families had at least one lockbox full of loose gemstones and gold jewelry stashed in a filing cabinet or the attic or the back of a closet. There were two ways to be rich, after all, and most people had things to hide. I’d figured this out for myself. The... Continue Reading →
Spring fed. When I was young, my father told me it was why the lake’s water was so clear and cold. Limited the weeds too, he would go on, when compared to lakes in the southern part of the state which became green and fetid from late summer algae blooms. The bottom is shallow and... Continue Reading →
After my father died I became jealous of every unorphaned child who held thecalloused arm of her dad in one hand and tucked the other in her mouth like alollipop in familiar footpaths and leisurely streets and smiled at me, mockingmy blank face. I wanted to hide forever from the world. I effaced ants andfireflies... Continue Reading →
Within minutes a wind has kicked up off the Gulf of Mexico, and the sky to the southwest darkens. Palm-sized raindrops begin pattering the chop, the chop already turning to low swells. The whipping gusts notch up to a steady gale. Lightning strikes a half-mile away, the air smelling like a blown fuse. The man... Continue Reading →
"Does anybody have a maxi pad? Aunt Flo came to visit, like a thief in the night." “What? Shh,” I say, alarmed. Thank goodness Dad isn't in the van with Denise Stitcher screeching about her period, as though this is something people talk about. Our family does not discuss bodily functions. Not peeing, pooping, farting,... Continue Reading →
This sounds narcissistic, but every few months, when I have a quiet moment, I like to take out my electrocardiogram and look at it. Oh, it is entirely normal, and maybe that is the point. I marvel at the tall narrow QRS complexes marching regularly across the page at 66 beats per minute, each followed... Continue Reading →
My room, now that I am in it, is at the front of the house, and directly opposite the Fire Station. Arrivals and departures, noise, flashing lights, hooting alarms, skidding, empty streets, but, still at emergency vehicle pace. Freedom to attend what he thought of as non-first responders’ events. Yet perhaps they were? There are... Continue Reading →
So we go to this gallery—me, Marie, the kids—and it’s not only what I expect, it’s worse. Awful, pointless, white. Everywhere white, the art and the crowd. “Incredible,” says Marie, in her signature monotone, swiveling her head left then right, which means she approves. “Dumb,” says Mikey, which means that in two minutes flat, he’ll... Continue Reading →
The Rockford brothers were already in Hell. The Rockfords all had dark eyes and enormous foreheads, and none of them were small, and at least one of them — Bud — was certifiably nuts. Bud had always seemed a little off, a little quiet, fiery violent, and usually stoned, but it wasn’t until he had... Continue Reading →
