Posts Tagged ‘fiction’
The Close and Distant Valleys
Billy on the rear gate of the pickup truck with his ankles crossed above his boots and the cuffs of his jeans wet from walking through the new snow woods and his chainsaw resting on the floor of the forest, his elbows then resting on his knees and his chin then resting on the heels…
Read MoreSnippet
Billy watched the valley, and the clouds staggered their passage first on the western mountains and then caught again on the eastern ridge. In between was a space of very blue sky, and the clouds were lit from behind by the western sun that fell away as the world spun on axis in the other…
Read MoreNaramata Road
“I have water for you. There’s a fountain down the road a little.” “Thank you. You’re being very nice.” “It’s the least I can do after trying to steal your bike.” The two men laugh gently. “I’ll never forgive you for that.” “I can live without forgiveness.” They laugh again. Billy and Jim in…
Read MoreThe Last Bits of Light
“I hope the winds don’t pick up again. That was horrible last night.” Billy was lowering the blinds on the bathroom window. The window was open to let in the air that blew cool down the mountains, and the night before when the winds picked up the blinds shook and slammed against the windowpane over…
Read MoreSix Ravens
Six ravens in the sky and one peeled off from the rest. That left 5 ravens together cawing their way up, circling on warm air pocketed below the mountain and one raven ditching toward the forest canopy with it’s wings tucked tight against the body, twisting and checking speed and balance, twisting into the branches…
Read MoreBilly in the Maron Valley, snippet
Melissa smiles and the boy relaxes and he smiles at her too. She puts her hand on the rear railing and swings herself out of the truck to land in the dirt underneath. A little wind whistles through the grasses nearby and Melissa looks toward it, wild oats bending with the breeze and the rigid…
Read MoreWriting
For many of us, when we do something, we want to nail it. The drive towards perfection is a strong one, and we’re conditioned, through things like television and social media, to accept nothing less. So when we write, we write when we feel like we’ve got something really, really important to spill, when we…
Read MoreThe Bunkhouse, An excerpt
There is no wind tonight. The heat from the fire in the woodstove hums through the chimney, air racing into the flue to feed the flames and then racing again, tempered and smoky out of the metal chimney and into the night sky. Tenaya is cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, her night for the…
Read MoreAs Plain as Day
Toward Morley on the Trans-Canada highway, out of the mountains to the west of the reserve and then the foothills, passed the casino sitting blank with flashing lights and waiting on the future for its payday to come home, along the ragged asphalt watching pickup trucks on the reserve roads dragging dust clouds behind them,…
Read MoreIn the Shadows
In the Peaks of Grassi the elk have been gathered for weeks. They lay in the hydro cut in the cold with the wind coming through Whiteman Pass. When they are still over the night hoarfrost grows white crystals on their fur. And in the night, if the clouds part in the sky and the…
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