Posts Tagged ‘ryan macdonald’
He is just asleep enough to know she is awake. Just relaxed enough to feel her tension. His breath is cautious, lingering exhalations, waiting to yield their rhythm to her concerns. Her breath is baited; a bright, dangling lure of passivity masking the barb of rejection. He isn’t biting. It doesn’t matter. A king-size bed […]
Filed under: prose | 1 Comment
Tags: breakup, fiction, ghost, prose, relationship, ryan macdonald, sexy gypsy, short fiction, story, the ghost in the king size bed
Glasses by Ryan Macdonald
Hello. My name is Alex, and I am a drug addict. I have been an addict for exactly four years, to the day. I haven’t had a hit in six hours. I haven’t needed one, I’m high as fuck. I think I’ve been awake for thirty-six hours. Or maybe it’s three. Maybe I […]
Filed under: prose | Leave a Comment
Tags: addiction, drugs, fiction, glasses, rant, ryan macdonald, short fiction, short story
They sat on the sand, the frigid air overcome by the peaceful power of the ocean breeze. Faint lights of the golden gate bridge, the sounds of cars speeding over it, all muted by the calm February night. Behind the couple, the last trickle of loyal tourists left Ghiradelli Square and headed […]
Filed under: prose | Leave a Comment
Tags: beach, breakup, fiction, ghiradelli square, prose, relationship, ryan macdonald, san francisco, sand, short fiction, short story
She fucking hated it when her mother called, especially this late. The woman was almost sixty. She went to bed every night at eight after watching Wheel of Fortune, except on nights such as this one. Nights like this, she seemed to enjoy calling her youngest daughter at 11 to rip apart […]
Filed under: prose | Leave a Comment
Tags: fiction, mother daughter, phone call, ryan macdonald, short fiction, short story