Ever since I devoured Anne Rice's vampire and witch stories in my twenties, I've been curious to read her erotica, written under the pseudonym A. N. Roquelaure. I finally got around to it with The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. I assumed Rice had eschewed Disney's version of Sleeping Beauty in favor of something more like … Continue reading thoughts on rice’s the claiming of sleeping beauty
I sat in the bookstore café with my friend, M. We were in the middle of our weekly meeting when a young man and a very young, very adorable little boy approached our table. The man told us his son was selling cookies for a school fundraising event. Would we buy a packet? The café … Continue reading cookies, fundraisers, and scams
Virgil and Sharon Smith measure their day by television programming. As they tell guests during commercial breaks, "...two o'clock is Bonzai Gunslingers. Then at three we watch Entitled Rich 1950's Girl Pseudodrama. After that is Guess the Price of This Crap..." From morning to night their day is jam-packed. Right now, it's 8:23 on Wednesday … Continue reading banana bread, anyone?
She stares at a bright sliver of green on the other side of the narrow forest opening. It is a lure beckoning through trees that loom around her like a formation of hovering mothers and nervous lovers pressing in on her, like uptight seaweed filtering out the sun. She is a hungry fish trying to … Continue reading standing still
I am eight years old in rumpled shorts and t-shirt meandering through an urban cavern of white painted ceiling and walls. False lights fail to mimic the sun in that space full of wood and animals. The salesmen are tigers in suits, smiling, gesturing. The furniture lay scattered about the floor: fallen, dead things polished … Continue reading a new dining room table