by Dolores Davis
Once there was a raven couple that followed Woman on her morning walks, because she fed them from a bag of treats. He was stout, with a hooked beak and a bold presence. She was smaller, cautious and demure. Woman named them Continue reading
“A penny saved is a penny earned.” That’s what Grandma said every time she slipped me some coins. I had no idea what she was talking about. For me having pennies in my pocket meant a trip to the candy store to buy wax lips or Tootsie Rolls. But now that Grandma’s gone, her sayings keep coming back to me. Guess that’s why I started saving my pennies. You know, those pesky little coppers that clog up your change purse. I got out an old sock and every night I dropped in the pennies I’d collected that day. You’d be surprised how fast the sock got heavy. Grandma would approve, I thought….which shows you how much I know. Continue reading
Pollyanna Prewitt followed her father up the cracked sidewalk to the dilapidated house on the edge of the graveyard. She stopped to tie her shoe.
“Come on, Polly, “Lester said. He set the shovel down, fished the house key out of his back pocket and waited for her. “It’s almost dark and the fog’s moving in.” Continue reading
Ghosts don’t exist. They belong in the realm of fairies, goblins, hobbits, and other fictional characters. At least, that is what I believed until my trip to Italy.
I flew to Milan with the intention of staying at Pension Carrobbio, a three-story hotel near the Piazza del Duomo. My friend who suggested the place said there were rumors of ghosts on the third floor. Continue reading
It was a dark and stormy night. The rain had paused but the fickle moon often hid behind the thunderheads, plunging Morganville into Stygian darkness. As I neared the cemetery, my 1975 Hornet coughed, sputtered, and rolled to a stop. I did the usual things, but it wouldn’t restart. Another car approached, and I tried to flag it down. They just drove on by, tooting as if I’d wished them a happy Halloween. “Darn!” I said.
It was 6:00 pm. Fred’s Petro-Serve garage lay just the other side of the graveyard and was open till 6:30. I could walk the long way, or I could shortcut across the cemetery. The time saved might mean reaching Fred’s before closing time instead of finding the garage dark and deserted.
Many in Morganville said the cemetery was haunted, reporting groans and shrieks as they walked nearby. Ed Suggins claimed he’d seen eerie lights wafting among the graves one night. Not superstitious, I leapt and grasped the top of the wall, then scrabbled upward until I looked down into the darkness of the cemetery. I had no idea what lay below me, but grass was a pretty good bet. I jumped. Continue reading
In Science, one thing sort of leads to another. So it was with the Parallel Euclidian Eye-space Polarization Experimental Research Station. The theory is generally accepted, now, but in 2035 it was not generally believed that light could be polarized along an axis parallel to the motion of photons. Scientists were divided into two camps: On the one hand, Betterworth-Crippenly at Cambridge thought the theory “utter balderdash.” On the other hand, Continue reading
In June of 1984, I flew to Milan to attend a summer course at the Academy of Fine Arts. My college professor had suggested the Academy after spending a semester voicing his frustration over my lifeless portraits. “Tessa,“ he had pleaded. “Stop painting with your eyes and learn to paint with emotion.”
At nineteen, I took that to mean I lacked passion. Continue reading