Refracted Neurons

In celebration of my birthday, Save Desdemona   is free with the coupon code QM58K.  The sale ends September 30, 2020. You can find the book here:   https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1013995

  We sat together in front of the fireplace embroidering napkins.  Una was much faster than me, her stitches neat and uniform.  “It’s a shame,” my mother remarked as she held up my work, “Your buttonhole stitches look square.  I don’t know how you do it.” “Everything I do is cornered,” I tried not to look up and failed. “You don’t have to do it,” Mother crumpled the napkin, letting it fall into the basket of scraps, “Una could finish the set for you.” I waited until she left the room to retrieve my napkin, “I like my work.”  Folding it into quarters, I placed it on top of Una’s three, the buttonholes perfect yellow suns in each corner. “Work puts the song in my heart,” Una began to hum.  Her voice was a bird-like soprano that made mine sound like a child playing violin. “Well, you’ll have lots more of it coming your way with the prince’s bal masqué.  It will be, ‘Una, polish the doorknobs.  Una, take in this bodice.  Una, clean the fireplace....

Image Made with Canva The air that day was suffocating and hot.  On the streets, women bared shoulders and legs, while men, shirtless, donned wide-brimmed hats.   “There are too many people out.” Cash startled, the cap to his pen skittering across his desk. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Andela circled Cash’s desk, her eyes on the city street below, “I’m asking to leave work early.  How about you?” “No, I’ll work late.  There won’t be as many people when the sun goes down,” Cash glanced at her.  He didn’t notice her filmy sundress or coiffed hair.  No, his eyes settled where they always did, on the gap between her face mask and the apple of her cheek.  Sometimes he imagined he could make out the slip of a lip, something that made his thoughts scatter like a dandelion puff in the wind. “You’re missing out.  Who knows when we’ll get another nice day,” Andela patted his desk and moved on. “Are you going to the beach?”  “I gues...

You want to know what happened? One moment I was sitting in front of my trailer in my lawn chair.  The next Freddy Blanchard’s roof had lifted off and it was raining fire. Megan opened her slider, only to get hit by a roof vent.  “Pigs-in-a-blanket,” she cursed. “Watch your mouth,” I stood, the plastic slats of my chair sticking to my behind. Megan’s nineteen-year-old daughter, Lila poked her head out, and boy did her eyes get wide.  Then she did the last thing I expected her to do, running barefoot through the fire, her sundress swirling around her in a manner that would get her branded as the devil incarnate. Freddy was not in a good way.  He lay next to his wife’s garden gnome, only inches away from his wooden porch.  It was on fire, and boy was it heating up good. But what really got the squirrels in my britches was the two rescuers taking turns at chest compressions and breathing: big old Vernon Jones with his jailhouse tattoos and fallen angel Lila.  ...

I wrote this story awhile ago and then just forgot about it. It’s about a cultish school where violence and bizarre behavioral therapy are the standard of care. There is another, much lighter short story I’ll be posting later this month, so if this is not to your taste, just mosey along. Also, Save Desdemona is free with the coupon SS100 through the end of July. If you like survival games, wacky adventures, and magic spells; scoop it up while the scooping’s free. (Link at bottom of page) —— The car turned from the gravel road to a paved drive, tires tinking as the last few rok s spun inside the rims.  Ahead, the school seemed to rise from the ground as they drove down a steep hill.  It looked like a fairytale castle from the distance; a peaked tower at each corner, a central door so large that it could admit a giant.  “Up ahead is the main campus.  Not that there’s any other part to the campus,” the bodyguard laughed, his red cheeks becoming more florid.  Sha...

There were always issues in family-run businesses, at least, that’s what Vera tried to tell herself.  Hase Insurance Company was a job during a time that so many people were struggling to find employment.  Yes, Elle Hase’s sons were managers.  Of course, they were.  Yes, there were no other managerial positions, except at the senior level.  Yes, that meant there was no upward mobility in the company. None of that mattered to Vera.  What mattered was that her boss, Tracy Hase drove her insane. For the past three months, Vera had only seen Tracy in the weekly all-staff Zooms, rotating from side to side in his desk chair against a virtual background of a red-lipped batfish.  Occasionally bits of him would disappear, as if the bat or fish, or whatever it was had taken a bite out of him. “ . . . tomorrow,” Elle’s voice was monotonous, “Any concerns?” Walter stuck his hand in the air like a child. “Tracy quit swiveling.  Yes, Walter?  You can just ...

There are many unknowns in the world.  Aliens may be out there.  Parallel dimensions might exist.  Star Wars might actually be non-fiction, or at least that's where the online library put it: Kids, I have something to tell you.  C-3PO is real and he's hiding in your closet. Somehow this didn't bother my daughter at all.  No, what bothered her was Benjamin Franklin. "He's scary," she said, "He isn't real, right?" "No, he's real.  But he died a long time ago." "Did he go to Heaven?" "I mean, probably." "Is there more than one Heaven?" By now, I know where she's going with this question and I'm struggling not to laugh.  "No, there's only one Heaven." "I don't want to go then.  Not if Benjamin Franklin is there." The next day she comes up to me, "I want to see a picture of Gingerman Franklin." Yup, you've heard of Slenderman, but have you heard of Gingerman?...