A new issue of WordCatalyst magazine is out, with first-rate prose, poetry, art, and photos for your enjoyment. Here is a snippet from my column, Tales of Whisper Gap:
PIE IN THE SKY
Rain pelted concrete, smashing against stone to send droplets flinging through the air like giggling children at play. But three figures huddled below the underpass stayed warm and dry. They'd built a tiny fire from newspapers gathered at a nearby bus stop, warming their hands under its minuscule flames. A new day was dawning on the city.
"Supposed to get colder and colder all day," Rock commented. "I read it in that paper before we burned it."
His massive hands rubbed together over the pyre with short, abrupt motions. Muscular arms propelled the movement while his huge body strained to stay in a crouching position. As if to prove him right, the rain proceeded to pound harder on the bridge above, as the water transformed to a disagreeable sleet, stronger, sassier than simple rain.
Millie wrapped a hole-ridden blanket tighter around her tiny torso. Her wrinkled hands rubbed skinny arms to warm them, next pulling a filthy knit cap down over her ears. "I'm hungry. My sweet tooth is driving me crazy."
Rock shot her a worried glance. He didn't have the courage to admit it, but the little lady reminded him of his grandmother. She never said why she was homeless, but they'd taken her in and given her a safe haven. Millie remained a source of amusement and cheer in their little group.
Sam, the other fellow, laid down the tattered book he was reading, his face illuminated with an idea. "Is today Sunday? There's a bake sale at St. Anthony's."
Rock kicked the burning embers to reveal the last untouched news pages. He squinted to read the charred pieces, scanning for a headline. "Yeah. It's Sunday!"
"Let's go," Millie said. ...More