conflict

By Edele Winnie

“These are good quality snippers.” Mark commented. He was a tool guy, so he knew what he was talking about.

They were pruners, the long handled kind, well used, probably fifty years old.

“They don’t make things with this kind of quality anymore.” Mark continued, handing them back to Sheila, his pretty, petite brunette wife.

She accepted them carefully. The pruner blades were shiny and extremely sharp. Someone had taken very good care of them over the years. Even though her hands were small the pruners seemed to fit her perfectly.

Mark and Sheila had liked the house the first time they saw it. It was small, but they were not planning children. The house was in good repair and the surrounding garden was impressive. It was not fancy but rather well maintained and lovingly cared for. Sheila imagined that the pruner had been used to trim the lilacs and dogwoods. Continue reading →

By Patrick Firth

Gus struck a match and dipped it into the end of his pipe. He sent the first puff through the tattered screen door. The same wind that ruffled Deb’s salt and pepper hair carried the sweet smelling smoke beyond the forested hill and into the purple sky. She sat at the crown of their hill, on her Adirondack throne, the soft hum of her chant only audible between the rhythmic hiss of leaves sliding against one another. The chant was familiar to Gus though, and he mouthed the words around the pipe stem. He only opened the door with its inevitable creak when the chant was done.

“Hear anything tonight?” Gus placed her pipe on the arm of her chair. Continue reading →