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4. Mud Pies

Continued from last week’s installment of Digging in the Dirt. The sun was slipping behind distant treed mountains at the furthest viewable point of Route 118. “Entering Dirt City, PA. Pop. 329, Elev. 994 ft.” Louisa swerved, just missing the sign. She corrected immediately and continued at exactly 45 mph. It didn’t happen all the…

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frogs

3. Frogs

Continued from last week’s installment of Digging in the Dirt. Tabitha, a pale woman in her 30’s with blue-tinted black hair cut in a severe bob and–at 4pm–still in her pajamas, carried two mugs of coffee in one hand, a clipboard under her arm, and a stack of file folders in the other hand. She…

Church

2. Church

Continued from last week’s installment of Digging in the Dirt. A rust-colored 1973 Chevy Nova was flattened underneath a smaller blue 1977 Honda Civic. Russ awkwardly climbed over them to get to the spot. Just beyond a block building, in a muddy clearing backed by three trees, and surrounded by an evenly placed circle of…

cable

1. Dinner Time

This is the first installment of Digging in the Dirt. Jim lifted a spoon to his mouth and took a taste from the pot. He paused and let the smells infuse his senses; he closed his eyes and meditated on the flavors. “Mediocre,” he thought. “Oh, well,” and yelled, “Dinner’s ready!” as he wiped the…

NoTrespassing

Safe

He was safe. No phones would ring, no thieves could break in, no internet hackers would steal his identity. Enclosed in his one-bedroom bungalow ten miles outside of Raleigh, Joe planned for everything. He could still get around if need be. His handicapped-modified car allowed him to visit people and go to stores. But otherwise,…

Ask Ceil – I Have an Opinion

Dear Ceil, Why do I have so many opinions, and why do I talk about them? I had no idea I cared. Signed, Soapboxing in Susquehanna Dear Soapboxing, There are several reasons why we might voice our opinions. Only a couple make any sense. 1. We need to hear ourselves talk.

Lunch

“Where are we going?” Dad asked again. “We’re meeting my friend, Kathy, for lunch.” She wasn’t my friend. “Oh, where’s that?” I pointed. “Right there.” “We’re having lunch?” “Yes.” “Who are we meeting?” “Kathy.” I pulled into a parking space. I didn’t cry.

Birthday Surprise

Veering from my regular commentary on the weirdness of life; here’s a longer flash fiction piece for your Friday. If you are about to eat cake, I suggest you wait until you’re done to read this. I’ve already put one person off cake with this story.  –Ceil The refrain of the birthday song was wobbly and…