Reading. Writing. Me.
There were pancakes everywhere. The whole house was covered with them. There was no rhythm or logic to their placement, no obvious tale they were meant to tell. Yet it was clear that they were the key. The issue of the issue.
I was on a bench in the park when he sat down beside me. The boards creaked beneath his weight. I felt his heavy breathing and heard him sigh. When I looked up, I tried not to panic. It's not within my usual daily experience to find a large brown grizzly bear sitting beside me... Continue Reading →
The music lilts through the house, soft and sweet. The electric piano sits with its back to the front window, its plug nestled into the wall just below that of the light peering overtop of the music rest. Several large oak trees shade the view of the street out front. The woman at the keys... Continue Reading →
The winds raged. I won’t say the volume of the storm didn’t shock me. It was a lot more than I expected when I set out with only light grey skies above me. Just a little rain, I thought, no more than a drizzle. Besides, the sea is small and I’ll be safe on the... Continue Reading →
“Three thespians.” Sally slowly slid sideways, unsecuring her seatbelt. “These perplexing puzzles are positively peculiar.” She sighed. “This murderer’s MO might make most actors migrate.” “Chief will be chuffed,” Sybil sneered. “He hates histrionics.” Sally shook her head. “He despises depravity deeper and the paperwork pisses him.” Wilma waved from the walkway. “Detectives,” she said.... Continue Reading →
R. C. Svendsen 