JayRod's Short Stories

Actually, I would describe things as sultry. The wind chimes are lazy. Even the lizards are wiping their brow. Only my can of beer is sweating more than me. My dog, Blackie, saunters slowly over to his water dish and begins lapping water to the rhythm of the clock on the Wall. Tick..Tick..Lap..Lap.... Sign in to see full entry.

Downstairs, like yesterday and the days prior, she curses the morning sun again. All of her days seem to begin with the same narcotic residue of her excesses. It’s already hot. The August morning sun bludgeons her senses. The empty wine bottles on the coffee table act as prisms for the relentless... Sign in to see full entry.