rivercrow

I sat on the hood of my car and watched the lit window of Doug’s third floor apartment. It was past 2 a.m. The engine ticked as it cooled.
From time to time, a shadow crossed the window. Each crossing was a sign to take a sip of tequila.
Backfill the hole.
I’d met Doug a few years […]

Lorida crossed the Morid and drug herself wearily onto the opposite shore. Near the center of the river the current had picked up and pushed her further downstream. She didn’t mind. The riverbank where she stopped was pebbly and clear of reeds. Visibility was good. No cover for predators.
She sprawled on the hot stones and […]

By the time I staggered home, I’d killed off several pints and a bottle of Delirium Nocturnum. I stopped drinking an hour or so before I left the Saucer. We’d spent our usual evening counting safety pins on skirts and…well, other things.
I launched an internet browser out of habit to check email. Doug had replied.
You […]

“Oh, yeah, hi phone.”
I’d gone to that happy inner space; the loud ringing of my cell phone registered only after several repeats of “Scotland the Brave” and a number of glares from the other patrons at Borders. I answered automatically.
“Phone?”
“Um. Yeah. This is Phone. Who’s this?”
“You don’t know?”
Male voice, higher pitched, fast. I searched my […]

She’d stopped counting the number of nests she’d raided as she clambered toward the river. Some of the cavity nesters had feisty fledgings, some of the raptor families had attempted to drive her off; she had cuts and scrapes, but Lorida’s hunger was sated by the time she reached the forest’s fringe. She guessed it […]

I watched Doug wind his way through the magazine racks and leave the store, the I started pawing through the hemp knapsack I drag with me everywhere. I keep a Moleskine pocket notebook and a click Bic pen with me at all times, just in case of inspiration. And to aid a lapsing memory. I […]

I’ll be honest. I loathe fiction. So when my friend Doug shoved me into a corner again (figuratively speaking–more like he wiggled a paper cup of cappuccino at me so hard the froth spilled across his fingers) and demanded that I write some fiction, my usual response was to laugh him off.
But he’s a persistent […]

The cycle of rebirth extends even to the electronic world.
Forums rise from their own ashes, sometimes growing through their pains, sometimes repeating the pains. The staff may change, the faces change, the names change–or not. No matter. The cycle continues.