Short Story

The Mall Watcher

This is an odd sort of story with a small kernel of truth in it. Growing up, there was a man who used to sit in the middle of the food court and people watch. He seemed to always be there every time I went to the mall. Then I left for college. Home from …

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The Lost Stories

I have more stories and poetry to post here, but today I am thinking about the ones that I haven’t held onto– the stories I let get lost on an old hard drive instead of transferring them to the new one. Most of these stories held at the heart of them a dying friendship, but …

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Sound of a Sigh

The summer my Grandpa Wally fell, the hospital conditionally released him to a nursing home for a week of physical therapy. I remember the look on his face when they put him in his temporary new room and the words out of his mouth, “Get me the hell out of here.” There was nothing I …

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49 States

While unpacking old notebooks, I stumbled upon the original ending of this story. Much more verbose and not quite as clever, that ending was the first piece of this story written. It made me think of transformations where two things are key: putting in the effort and letting things organically grow. A story won’t sit …

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Stomp Dog

The Casper Humanities Festival kicked off Tuesday evening with a book club discussion of “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. The story has been a favorite of mine since I first read it in college. I have long admired Gilman’s ability to enact social change with such a creative and captivating story. Who knew …

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