Lawless Letters

Their hold on me had long since loosened. But I felt Darien’s hands days later.  I felt them across the conference room, Monday after the office party. I felt them when his eyes followed me out the door.  Something had to give. Closing my résumé, I inhaled, and dialed HR. 

Wake up rested and ready to face Tuesday. Kid #1 may be staying home with a sore throat, but Kid #2 got on the school bus successfully, lunch packed, water bottle full, and mask on, so that’s a win!  Walk the dog. Several blocks from home, answer a call on your cell. Listen to someone at your kid’s school insist that you pick up Kid #2, who isn’t sick. Listen as they explain that the school district’s COVID-19 plans, which they’d sent to parents in the form of an indecipherable flowchart, require all children in the family to stay home if one child has even a single symptom of COVID-19. Ask questions. Listen to them say that all four members of our household must either have negative COVID tests or quarantine for 10 days before the kids are allowed back. Question this directive, which differs from the guidance you recall reading, and be told to expect a call from the school principal.  Drop off the dog and drive the old-clunker car to school. While driving home, explain to a p...

Many of us modern-day humans hang out online with people we’ve never in person. The Internet is full of communities, and members of those communities sometimes become friends. But if you’ve never met someone in real life, are they really a friend? To answer that question, you’d first have to ask, “What is a friend?” And I suspect that answer is different for everybody.  What Defines a Friend? Linguistically speaking, there are as many definitions of “friend” as there are dictionaries. The Oxford English Dictionary calls friendship “an informal relationship of mutual trust and intimacy.” The Russian Ozhegov Dictionary agrees trust is key, defining friendship as “a close relationship, based on mutual trust, affection and unity of interests.” Merriam-Webster offers several definitions, including “a favored companion.” I would say someone is a friend if you enjoy each other’s company and care about each other’s well-being. My friends are people I’ve bonded with in some way – perhaps v...

Without its diamonds, it was a beet-hued hunk of junk, an Americana tchotchke. Stolen, never recovered, the news had said. Dialing, she held the Liberty Bell Ruby to the sunlight. “Larry,” she said, “you’re not gonna believe what I just got at a yard sale for seven bucks.” Writing Prompt:  Include the words ruby and seven  

Paper is obsolete now, right? We have e-books. We have Docusign. We have online newspapers, magazines, annual reports, birthday cards, and, of course, e-mail. OK, it's not obsolete yet. But even Luddites like me have embraced the digital age. My one holdout: I can’t quit paper books. And getting mail is still fun, even though nobody except my mom mails me anything anymore. The older I get, the less paper I want cluttering up my life. File folders are bulky; storing them is annoying. Bills pile up on surfaces and are easier to pay online. Even our beloved books are a burden to cart around; we did a book purge during our last move and it felt oddly freeing. Then there's the environmental impact. Hanging out at home during the pandemic has made it clearer to me than ever how many dead trees dwell in my house. So, yesterday, after receiving my umpteenth piece of snail mail from Computershare, I took myself to their website to switch to online statements. Some compan...

“And I’ve never been the same,” I concluded, sighing. Next to me, in the window seat, the dog looked at me with big, brown, soulful eyes. “Rough,” she said. Only she had acknowledged my pain, hadn’t tried to explain it away. I smiled at my new best friend. Prompt: Tell us a story that includes an animal where there shouldn’t be one

Something moved in the shadows. It loosened itself from the mud where it had lain buried for sixty years. Rising, it swirled, taking form. From its center, a fiddle’s tune sprang forth, leaping and dancing like a candle flame. In the rocking chair, the old woman smiled, tapped her foot, and hummed along.

We’re in our fifth week of the state-mandated COVID-19 lockdown. I’ve just spent my 39th consecutive day in the company of nobody except my husband, kids, dog, cat, and the platoon of ants that plundered our kitchen. Shit’s still as weird as it was a month ago , but, to my surprise, it’s not all bad. It took me a few weeks (and bottles of wine) to get here. When this all started, many of us went through a “WTF period” as we flailed around, adjusting to the new normal. Take it from me: supervising e-learning for two children while simultaneously working a full-time corporate job is not for the weak. Suddenly I was wearing multiple hats, all day, every day: teacher’s aide, tech support, cook, hall monitor, recess monitor, stage manager, janitor, and counselor, plus my day job. When you wear nine hats at the same time, a couple of them are bound to fall off at least once a day. To cope, and because my brain requires lists, I started jotting down things I missed. After a while, I sta...

Billy shoved the spade downward, scooping dirt. Clang. With his fingers, he dug trenches around the metal box, wiggled it free. Behind the oak, Grandpa had said. These hands can’t dig anymore. Finders, keepers. The lid creaked open. Atop the pile, Joe DiMaggio’s face smiled back at Billy. Prompt: earth

Image credit: Washington Post The humans have been barking more than usual. They watch that big flat box that they like, the one that shows pictures of other humans barking, and they bark back. Coronavirus , they keep saying. I do not know that word. But I know it must be something really great! For one thing, my entire pack is home. All of them, together, all the time! The man and the woman stopped telling me to guard the house (as if I needed a reminder! What will they remind me to do next, breathe?) as they left for "work." And the small humans have not stepped into that giant orange Twinkie with wheels since last week. Someone must have eaten that Twinkie. Lucky. Not only are they all home, they take me for walks three or four times a day now! Today, the man put on my leash and mumbled something about getting out of the house before he committed hairy Carrie. I don't know who Carrie is, or why she needs to be committed, but I sure hope she gets better soon....

Times are weird, folks. My little village at the edge of Chicago has gone from “quiet suburb” to “ghost town,” and the ghosts are us, haunting our own houses. Just under two weeks ago, the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic. Somebody at Johns Hopkins University created an online tool to track confirmed cases and deaths. I refresh it daily to see the latest numbers. Ordinarily, that would be a weird thing to do, morbid even. Maybe it’s still weird, but normalcy has gone on hiatus. The stories from Italy are particularly heartbreaking. Medical staff must decide which patients to treat and which ones to let die when they run out of hospital beds and equipment. Newspapers print extra pages to accommodate the surge in obituaries. Survivors can't comfort each other at funerals for fear of spreading the sickness. Compared to that, my own problems seem trivial. I was supposed to be on my first-ever cruise right now, and being on lockdown sucks, but out there...

Written for the workshop Hindsight 2020 . Assignment: reduce Version 1 to 100 words or less. # The clang of a shaken spray-paint can punctuated the dawn fog. I ducked behind a shrub and peeked. The boy aimed the can at the bridge wingwall. I was hiding again, I realized. Just like I’d hidden my ability all these years, from my family, from everyone. I focused on the can. It sailed into the air. With a yelp, the boy sprinted away. “Rhea Revello?” I jumped. “Here’s my card.” The woman smiled. “We’ve been aware of your skills for some time. Join us.” Union of Unusual Talents , it read. Maybe it was time to come out of hiding.

Stacia followed Beelzebub past the river of fire. Pitchfork-wielding demons prodded naked souls to wade through the flames. Anguished screams echoed. “Down this hall, your punishment awaits.” Beelzebub grinned. “You will listen to Justin Bieber’s Greatest Hits for eternity.” “Nooooo!” screamed Stacia, sprinting back toward the flaming river. Prompt: Write a 48-word story about fire

Written for the workshop Hindsight 2020 . Assignment: write a story in 1,000 words or less. Original prompt was from YeahWrite #457, "The main character sees someone about to commit a minor crime. Do they use their superpower or not?" # I was seven the first time it happened. The summer sun warmed my back as I lay in the grass behind my house, kicking my legs lazily, reading Wonder Woman comics and wishing I could talk to animals like she did. The peeping sound came from across the yard. I walked over to see what it was. A tiny baby bird, so young it barely had feathers, flopped pathetically in the dirt. Looking up, I noticed a nest on a tree branch ten feet above. I’d heard that if you touch a baby wild animal, then its mom won’t take care of it anymore. I sat there and I wished that the bird could return to its nest. In my mind, I pictured it rising off the ground and floating back up there. I blinked. The baby bird was two inches off the ground. Its little shad...

Poseidon drew the short straw. Hera sighed. “Yes, they’re irredeemable. But I’ll miss those buggers. Their bridges, computers, M*A*S*H ... Genius.” The trident swung. The floodwaters flowed. The underworld gained eight billion souls. Hephaestus prepared the drafting table. “Okay. Humans 2.0.” Aphrodite nudged Ares aside. “This time, I’ll design.”

Mountains, like gods, reign forever, but These will collapse when winter ends Imperious ivory slopes and indigo shadows Topple, thwarted by the springtime sun. Poetry style: Haynaku (1-2-3 word stanzas)

At the risk of sounding like a Grinch… I never make New Year’s resolutions. It just seems so arbitrary to pick January 1 to make major changes in one’s life. If something is worth doing—indeed, if it’s worthy enough to merit a pledge—then surely it’s worth doing on April 25, July 19, or whatever date you make your decision. Plus, does anyone really keep their New Year’s resolutions? Does anybody heroically turn over a new leaf on 1/1 and make it permanent? Or do we declare resolutions just to make ourselves feel good? The internet is full of well-intentioned New Year’s resolution templates and tracker apps. However, the meme-generating wizards appear to share my cynicism: I do enjoy the holiday season. I celebrate Christmas in a secular sort of way, with emphasis on generosity, goodwill, the marking of the solstice with a tree covered in bling, and the eating of delicious fattening treats. So every year I make about seventeen thousand cookies and then drive around ...

Oh, Time. Why must you be so aggravatingly finite? I would have loved to do the entire NaNoDoMore list  this year. But the usual things ate up my waking hours (can I move to a shack somewhere, and ditch this mortgage and the day job to boot? then there's that darn eating thing...). I managed five, though! Submit to a paying market. In November, I submitted stuff to Ninth Letter and Newfound (Virtual Realities Themed Issue). Neither of them has yet responded, so it remains to be seen whether I’ll ever be able to call myself a “professional” creative writer. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained! Write a complete story in under 100 words. Of course I did, because I can’t quit the YeahWrite microfiction challenges. The prompts are delightful, and the length is an exact match for how much free time I have (very little).  Start a conversation in the Coffeehouse about anything writing related. I asked about in-person writing groups vs. online groups. Everyone seemed to agree t...

The wildfire had raged remorselessly toward Paradise. He’d barely escaped through the burning pines. Afterward, people searched for heirlooms in charred debris. Nobody noticed the yard’s freshly turned earth under its light layer of ash. Snow drifts covered the ruins now. He grinned. San Quentin wouldn’t have him this time. Writing Prompt: Write a 50-word story containing the words burn, cover, drift, light, and pine

A small face is pressed against the window, watching for the blue car that should have been home by now.