Under My Skin

Like the north wind in winter, She chilled as she killed. Like a summer deluge Driven into naked flesh, The heat precluding all but Necessary attire, She saturated my soul. Like an unexpected heatwave When wool was what you’d worn, She sweated from every pore. Whatever the conditions, Whenever she fancied, She got right under […]

Citrine Dreams

The day still held a sharp residue of summer, a citric tang. Memories of those early years picking lemons off the trees, how it felt like holding the sun, sneaking bites then wrinkling our faces, a flood of yellows past washed over me like an August storm. They were hot those yesterdays, so very hot. […]

#VignetteSeries – Arizona Evenings

 Author's Note: It was hot! 'Nuff said. "Skin to skin," she purred. I wasn't as good with women as they were with me so grew queasy when she narrowed her eyes and grinned a salacious grin. Like a starved cat thrown in a cage full of mice, she licked pouting, ruby lips and extended […]

50 Word Stories: In a Damp Distraction

 Life chafed, rubbed at the edges and wore away, arid like scalding sheets of sandpaper left out in the sun then applied to aching joints. Such was desert life where even the lizards wore sunglasses and the Bedouin caravans strapped air conditioners to each camel. Then, it rained. Ah, bliss!

50 Word Stories: Untouched

The sun burned with a ferocity to melt the night back to nothingness, birds in the sky cooked in mid-flight. Every puddle and every window flashed molten madness, people passing by incinerated, black shoe prints their legacy. I didn’t. Then again, I wouldn’t. The devil looks after his own.

This Heat (Drabble)

This bar by the beach doesn’t lessen the heat, it amplifies it. I no longer drip with perspiration, but something else, something feral. There’s a cool breeze blowing off the ocean, a beer in my hand, condensation taking a slow tour of the glass, but every second I’m sitting here, I’m getting hotter. Why? This […]

50 Word Stories: Is This Summer?

Devoid of locomotion, I rub my eyes and squint away a restless night. I wonder, is this another summer’s day or an illusion? The light’s golden and a definite heat traces my cheek, a bead of sweat already collecting on my forehead; must be Hell. I’ll go back to sleep.