Ben Stewart

Jared didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to be alive.   He stepped into the attached garage and assessed the overhead door mounts for their weight bearing ability; how embarrassing to hang yourself and pull the ceiling down.  Jared climbed a stool, gripped the support, and let it take his weight. He kicked his Continue reading

The man dropped into a bentwood IKEA chair, crossed one leg over the other, and blew a raspberry. The oldest of his three children was outside, for now, and his wife had taken the twins to their two-year check-up.  Quiet moments in his house are rare; him being there to enjoy them rarer still. His Continue reading

Molly stood, watching her fiancé’s animated retelling of how he proposed. Cameron smiled and laughed, waving his hands, and looking each person in the eye. No doubt delivering keen wit along with the good-natured self-deprecation of a master storyteller. Maria looked especially drawn in as she stood at his side, smiling, and nodding along.  Her Continue reading

Sam lived to sixty, never learned his left from right, and didn’t care to. In parade formation, Sam was positioned at the front. To his surprise, everyone carried a trombone and wore a variation of cargo pants or joggers. Sam wore jeans and, per instructions by the Parade Marshall, had brought a kazoo instead of Continue reading

I once read that if you’re lost in the desert, take such water on offer, regardless of the source. Sage advice, but I never expected that little nugget of wisdom to have such a literal application.  “Thanks, granny.” I said, accepting the cup from my dead grandmother’s desiccated hand. “You really didn’t need to come Continue reading