Progress Slowly

With a large calloused hand, Mary tucked the hem of her dirt-smeared shirt under her orange safety vest, fixed the yellow hardhat atop her head, and stepped off the curb and into the busy road. The rubber of her work boots squeaked like baby birds, but no one could hear it over the sound of the tractor ripping into the earth yards away. She walked along the curb, between the sidewalk and a line of traffic cones she had helped set up several weeks ago. Continue reading

Marvin Madly: Chapter 3

(Continued from Chapter 2.)

Dogs – his own neighbors’ dogs – were biting passersby. It wasn’t this alone that scared Marvin. He started connecting stories, and that’s when things got worrisome.

There had only been two separate stories of dog bitings, which were separated by a month. But a week after the second biting, Marvin was watching the news when a new story broke – a customer at the local pharmacy had reached over the counter and bit the pharmacist on the cheek. Continue reading

Marvin Madly: Chapter 2

(Continued from Chapter 1.)

Greta’s hair was a bouncy brown and she had strong muscular hands. Three years ago, when they first met at the supermarket, Marvin thought she was rather beautiful. They were in the dried goods section, reaching for the same pasta when Marvin remarked about her hands, which were really quite noteworthy. Continue reading

Marvin Madly: Chapter 1

Marvin crept along the dim hallway. The thrashing noises outside the steel door had stopped. The camera feeds along the hall showed him nothing. Marvin felt alone again, but he could never be too sure; not even twenty feet under the ground. He pushed the side of his face against the door, feeling the cold smooth surface with his ear. Hearing nothing. If he could just open the door a smidge and make complete certain there was nothing breathing out there, Marvin knew he would be able to sleep that night. Just a smidge. Continue reading


Lahela opened her eyes one morning, stepped out of bed and felt the earth had changed beneath her. When she glanced down at her feet, she found that in their place were two dark brown hooves peeking out under her floral pajama pants. Feeling a scream building in her throat, she brought a hand up to stifle it, but as she did so she punched herself in the face with a heavy thwack. Her hands had transformed to match her feet. Continue reading