Starting off in the distance, where the gelatinous ocean rose in spots and dipped in others, waves rolled. Each following another as it finally dispersed itself into the fine sandy shore. One wave followed another but each grew again in the same place. It was impossible to follow one and not feel it also somehow …
Category Archives: Prose
Interpersonal Telescopic
1 March 2008
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Prose
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Tagged beach, love, ocean, personalities, telescoping characters
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Comments (0)
Donned in Details
He went around the side of the house and climbed over a broken fence. Climbing it was easy, the fence gave way, giving him way, and soon he’d stepped through enough waist-deep shrubs and weeds to gather their briars, hooks, and brown hitch-hiking bits from his pants for a bouquet of prickly plumes, which he …
19 August 2007
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Prose
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Tagged cape breton, nova scotia, photography
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Comments (0)
Peer
“Bring your meditations, I’ll have a great bowl of fruit.” … At the cliff, the two sat, legs dangling from the edge but feeling neither worry nor agitation. It was far enough to the bottom for fate to pronounce its name–but not so far that people lost their detail. Waves rolled toward the base of the …
A Park, One Time, was but Three Steps from Memory
Jesus, I was just going about my business. I get a lot done–or I try to anyway, but I get blind sometimes. I don’t mean I have problems with my eyes, which actually I do, but that I forget what I am. I forget the whole business, just the whole world. It just goes on …
Night Three Morning Four
Julie and I were special agents. We were in New Brunswick, Canada, in the winter. We were searching for some sort of entity — and had only a vague notion of what it was. We were inside a small sort of lab space, somewhat on a primitive scale. A smaller window allowed a vast field of …
Moments: Blackmail and Deed
Things happen but nothing is apparent. A dry, dusty, day and yet there was dampness in the form of mud. The day itself wasn’t dry and dusty, that’s a slight of hand. If it wasn’t a slight of hand, days would be astonishing things. Any day that one might come to this spot, one would …
Slick and the Rags
Characters: Tilly James Marlowe Boy J: Quick Marlowe, we’ve got to hide ‘er. M: In the shed, James, it’s dark in the shed! J: How many bullets did she get again?
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