VISCERAL VINDALOO

Stories with a horse, ghosts, depression, alcohol, houses

5:45 A.M. Drizzling, nasty, dark, and humid. Her 2002 spray painted Accord accelerated in congested spurts down Peter’s Creek and into the 711 parking lot. Right on time. C.J., franchisee, was early- District was coming for a routine “Quality Check” which meant merchandise had to be stocked and shelved in precise, standardized formation; bathrooms and …

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Johnny

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March threw handfuls of clashing sleet at the rusty aluminum roofs of house and barn, drizzling reminders of the solid cold winter. Winter so ornery, that after seventy-five faithful years of ballerina pink blooms, the peony roots froze to death. A trajectory of needle-sharp ice stung Johnny’s nose, driving him deeper into his rattling shelter, …

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The loss inside me burns like a flag in a rainy, October night. Beaten and dreanched. My heart pounds on top my chest-I will not let it in. My feet are numb but I don’t care enough to find socks. I will never forget this day, I pledge. And so I haven’t. “Sincerity flowers” thrown …

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We scheduled the appointment during a blizzard. We didn’t want to chance waiting. Suspiciously affordable, we naturally wondered what was the matter with it, but we’d admired it for years, so when we drove by and saw the sign, I hurriedly scribbled down the phone number on a dry cleaning receipt and hoped it wasn’t …

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Minutia

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I. Owls snuggle in hollow trees. Aware. I stare at and ascend into the Blue Safire Gin sky. Angels flit in the stratosphere. Observing. I grip my walking stick and steady myself. The river is gone since the flooding, leaving only a trickle, wet rock and exposed roots. My life once passed before my eyes, …

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  The forest floor is stacked with wet leaves under a sunless mask glaring through soaked and falling trees. But I force myself to look ahead, rather than down. Well more than half-way through a human life expectancy, I fail to see any public summit or pivotal experience to earmark my life. A standard, dull …

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Falling

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The acorns have stopped bombing the ground and humidity clings around trees like plastic wrap. No breeze-silent-but the dog’s ears flap to the speed of his gallop as he trolls the woods. A line of spiders and ants cross my path hurridly; their days numbered and a piliated wood pecker cuts the sky with a …

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