by Page Lynch | Jan 8, 2015
An old candy cane made out of a pipe cleaner with alternating red and white beads slipped over it was the first ornament his daughter had made for him. It was also her last. He hung it on the tree, remembering that nothing lasts forever, but there are always memories to cherish.
by Page Lynch | Nov 18, 2014
A man with a half shaved head and no shirt removes my handcuffs. He slaps into my hand a metal tube that comes to a needle turned at a right angle at the end. There is only one button.
by Page Lynch | Nov 6, 2014
The living room was lit only by the faint glow of a TV. He was sound asleep on the couch, where his exhaustion had triumphed over his will to get in bed, as it did every night. It wasn’t until the TV went to silent static that he awoke.
by Page Lynch | Oct 21, 2014
When the horizon had given up the last of its glowing gradient, something thumped the bottom of her boat. There was some splashing in the water and more thumping as her boat began rocking back and forth. She laid there with her eyes closed, too terrified to look.
by Page Lynch | Sep 22, 2014
He sat on his living room couch, watching the news. He had tried so hard to convince them that he could save millions of lives, but they wouldn’t listen.