Nana’s Shroud

The steps were old and steep. Their rise was endless and mysterious. The three ancient nails holding each securely to the aging walls were like a disgusting parody of the holy trinity.  Each one almost was representing my many fears, my many tainted personalities; the father, son and ghost. I shuddered nervously at the many loud creaks the ancient boards would make.  Each one was like the crack of a whip against my conscience’s back. My nervousness that night was a mixture of many things, namely, the sheer mystery exuded by the whole situation, and also, the disturbingly burning anxiety…

Waterfalls and Roman Fountains

They were a coarse gang, and each shaft was thick but short, though each had enough stamina to penetrate the tight flesh of the undergraduates’ cheeks. His stubble, like filth, or pieces of trash, littered his chin, as well. Brad was transfixed with an intriguing grimace as he adored Timothy in that corner of the room reserved for the unattainable. The instructor broke the line of transmission, and the visible audio of Timothy’s own glare in return–imagine that! reciprocation!–fell silent. Looking away, Brad discerned he was to follow his paramour’s lead and look at Dr. Redburn and discuss the Fellini…

The Aftermath of Katrina

Akin to a diamond hitting an obsidian floor, the first tear hits Curleta Mason’s stone cheek. Gliding along its sculpted contours, the same sculpted contours that together in harmony achieve the perfection that every one of her friends and coworkers consider her body to have. She is not moving. Her body is stone. The stone her mama taught her, ordered her to have. “Do not falter, child… And don’t start, do you hear me? don’t you let them know you’re afraid.” The stone statue she had to be, this instant. Right this instant. More tears follow, but not in torrents,…

The Wonders of San Jonatán

The angels did send to the Spanish town of Arcos de la Frontera on the twentieth day of October in the year of 1500 a child who would grow to become a conquistador of immense strength and virtuous judgment in action called Jonatán by his parents, a noble father and a pious mother. Though seeking not the gold of his peers, he ventured when but twenty years of age in 1520 to New Spain to defend and spread the Faith, which, in a dream, the angels did command him so to do. After two years of indefatigable conquest and evangelization,…

The Bitter Herbs

[Nature] will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole. —Oscar Wilde, “De Profundis” In excess, he knew the things of the few. Crafting wide paths for the narrow harem whose few would frolic along them, he mimicked their abundant toil and charted a route from his symbol’s balcony to the fountain. He laid out the garden in trefoil form. As a…

The Devil’s Costumers

I MO Hush. Only the taciturn, the hardened and still, will escape the avaricious hand of the air. It is an aged hand, marred by the brutality of the world and weathered raw by the passing of Saturn, like a scythe along its flesh. This hand is one to be trusted never often, and even so, but after lengthy enquiry into the intentions and capabilities of oneself. That hand that bleeds deceit! Silvered and cool, the air is as a mirror, a passing deception which grabs you if any thing you place into it; your caution, your glare, your voice….