Fool’s Fire – Flash Fiction Online, May 2010
It’s the cold mud that wakes me, and the taste of duckweed in my throat. In my mouth, my nose, my ears. It fills my lungs, creeps behind my eyes. I burst through the slime with a half-formed scream.
Bad Connection – Love, Loss and Other Oddities: Tales from Saskatchewan
The phone’s off the hook again when I get home. In the middle of the kitchen floor this time and once I lock the storm out behind a bolt and chain, it starts lecturing me.
They called her Lorelei, but dead girls have no names. For her crime they stripped her, whipped her about the town with willow switches. Hurled earth and slick river stones. Whore. They drove her out and barred the gate.
They say she howls over a fallen love, a lost child. They always say such things. They also say the miller fell to his knees when she appeared before him, although none were there to see it.