e c l e c t i c a f i c t i o n
(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole story!)
Benjamin Franklin Bridge Blue (Spotlight Runner-Up!)
With every step Al's net worth shook in my pocket like dice. Did I feel good about robbing Al like that? No, I did not. But did I feel good? You mean two percs in, walking on air in the middle of the street—no cars out, what with all the snow—walking on air what with the snow and the percs, and not only walking on air but walking home? Yeah, I felt fucking fine. I had enough in my pocket to make things right, and I was going home to make that happen. But first I had to make a stop in Frankford.
Black Sheep Boy
Suddenly, I wasn't just the fag. I wasn't just the queer quiz kid. Here, I was white before all. Even with the red flashes of Sabine skin, even with the wild bush of hair, I wasn't black. At Sheets, there were only two options, no choice, the same as Boogie's award at school. Other people may have argued about prairie Cajuns and swamp Cajuns. Other people may have argued about pure French and Sabine French, Creole and mulatto, quadroon and octoroon. Here, there was no argument. Everything was clear as black and white, and I was the pink-eyed opossum in the room.
Upstairs he folded his laundry and found a basketball game on TV. During commercials he flipped around, not wanting to think about the lost $50 or Pete's stupid face. Janet had called him "kid," but he was going to be 36 in a week, and he still lived alone. He hardly noticed his age when he was busy at work in the newspaper building, and he hardly noticed when he watched sports on TV, but he remembered his age while flipping channels, or standing in a crowded subway car grasping a pole, or passing a man and woman walking together on the street.