The sour-faced woman raised her eyebrows after scanning my ID card. “I’m sorry, we can’t accept your vote.”
“What? Why not? I’ve voted at this polling place for the past 12 years. I’ve never missed an election. What’s wrong?”
“It seems that your citizenship is in question. We can’t just let anyone vote, you know.” She said this with a smirk and dismissive wave of her hand.
Amy stretched languidly, enjoying the morning quiet.
Then it struck her: It’s Wednesday! Why didn’t the alarm go off?!
She flew out of bed, glancing at the offensive clock: 8:13 am. Shit. No time for a shower or coffee and there was no way she’d make the express bus. Driving wasn’t an option either with the crowded highways at peak commute hour. She’d have to take the subway to get into the city. Ugh.
He considered himself immortal. He’d had plenty of broken bones and visits to the emergency room in his 33 years as a stuntman. In each of the three near-death experiences, he was drawn to a light but it always dimmed before he reached it. And then he woke to excruciating pain.
This was different. He found himself weightless. No sound, no sights, just white. Best of all, no pain. An unseen force slowly propelled him forward and after a time he came upon a huge golden gate.
A kind voice whispered in his head, “Enter ye who are pure of heart.”
“Fort Awsome,” the sign read. In all actuality, it wasn’t a “fort” and “awsome” was spelled wrong. Both were mortal sins in her book and she felt no remorse in ripping the shoddily made wooden plaque off the rickety beach shelter, placing it in the garbage bag she carried.
Virginia was a creature of habit. Every Sunday without fail she walked to the local coffee shop near the harbor and read the newspaper over a pot of black tea. Then she walked the two mile stretch of beach, picking up litter and washed-up trash with her gloved hands.
Charlie’s trained eyes peered through the binoculars from his vantage point at the top of the playground castle. He had a full view of the park and the turret shielded him from view of onlookers. He jotted notes in a little pad with a pencil, kept tucked in his suit pocket.
The man had approached the bench from the south, glancing furtively to his left and right several times before catching sight of the pretty young woman and quickening his pace when she looked up from her book with a smile.
We grew up sailing San Francisco Bay, indisputably the best sailing in the world and one we generally take for granted. On a typical day on the water we’ll motor up the estuary (which we fondly refer to as the “Alameda Riviera”) raising sails just beyond the Port of Oakland. We know all the stories associated with the local landmarks such as President Roosevelt’s refurbished USS Potomac and Jack London Square, the old Navy Base and the various Coast Guard stations.
Laura stepped off the bus and headed towards home. If you could call it that. An illegally converted garage wasn’t much of a home. She shared the single bathroom with three others and had to keep her food in a cooler so it wouldn’t be stolen from the community kitchen. It was all she could afford but was far better than the house she used to live in with her alcoholic husband.
“The life in front of you is greater than the life behind you.”
Amy saw the poster tacked to the phone pole at the bus stop.
LOST: Female Dog.
Beloved Family Pet.
Sat., Oct. 6
near Grand and Otis.
Answers to Cookie.
The picture below the text showed two adorable little boys with their arms around an even more adorable little brown dog. Her heart sank. It looked exactly like the dog she had found just after midnight two days ago.
Every weekday morning Mama would walk us to school and chat on the schoolyard with the other mothers, discussing their supper menus and any juicy news they had heard since the day before. We lived in a small town where walls were thin and lips were loose. Today’s hot topic was the recent sale of the old Dorst home to a couple from out of town.
Martha, who lived across the street from the house, couldn’t wait to share her latest insight, “This morning the wife drug the trash bin to the curb and then drove off in the convertible. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the husband yet.”
Her head hit the shower door hard and she slumped onto the cold tile floor. He slammed the door behind him with a bang without looking at her or saying a word. Enough had already been said. Blood dripped down her cheek and she licked the droplet as it reached the corner of her lips. Warm and metallic tasting.
She heard the crackling noise and looked up. A dozen cracks crept from the spot of impact, creating a spider web across the glass. Fascinating. She shifted into a more comfortable position and waited patiently. Even the slightest sound would bring him back in a renewed rage.
Vivo O Sonho 