"WOLFGANG'S KEEPER"_The Last Word_Where the Heart Is_Miracle and Grace
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"WOLFGANG'S KEEPER"
It was 2003, on a balmy afternoon in Clarke City, Arizona. All the kids were playing and riding their bikes around the culdesac and Romelis Townsend, a firefighter for over 15 years, was flying his new drone around the neighborhood, saying hello to all the neighbors within earshot. He has lived at 1302 Spandler street for the last 18 years and there has never been an incident............until today. He knows everyone on his street and is well-known around these parts. There"s Mrs. Franklin tending to her prize-winning tomato garden, and Mr. Riley is sipping homemade peach moonshine on the porc...
The Last Word
The Last WordIIt is rainy when the funeral started. Only her friends and some close neighbors who show pity on her attended the burial. Her daughter has been crying since then. Everyone in the burial is sorry for what happened to her. No one expected it would happen. Neither I.I first met her in the bakery. It is not a propitous day. I was buying bread at that time. She, on the other hand, is just starring on the loafs of bread. She looks so pale and thin in her white shirt. Her swww.onedoor.ccleepers doesn't fit her thin feet. She seems she really needs it so badly. She keeps pointing at...
Where the Heart Is
Did you know India looks nothing like the city in Aladdin? I discovered that just now, a minute ago, as the wheels of the plane clapped the tarmac and the pilot's staticky voice rumbled above our heads like God himself, welcoming us to Delhi. When I finally summoned the courage to raise the window shade and look outside, there was no bazaar waiting to greet me, no kleptomaniacal monkeys in fezzes running amok. Just disillusionment.In my defense, my family emigrated from New Delhi to the United States when I was three, leaving me with nothing more than patchy afterimages of this country: the sp...
Miracle and Grace
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. The pre-dawn sky above Garnett Ridge flickered, casting an orange glow into the starless, smoke-filled night. I stood on dad's patio, embers racing past me like dancing pixies, hopping and twirling and twisting and pirouetting on the hot wind that whipped down the hillside into the canyon. It was oddly beautiful. Magical, even.I put out my hand for one of the larger ones, paper thin and aglow like a bioluminescent moth. It burned slightly as it settled on my palm and then went dark. I closed my fingers around it and felt it crumble to ash...