Gish Moore
Stories (2)
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Meatball gets a demon
The other day, I was working on a story that just wouldn’t quit. It was like a runaway train or a swollen deadly creek rushing in late spring. Just couldn’t get a grip on something to pull me out. I have to say, if that story doesn’t turn out, I’m going to…well, I don’t know what I’d do. Paper doesn’t respond when you yell at it.
By Gish Moore5 months ago in Fiction
Rez Girls
I found her there. In a broke down shack all crumbled cinderblock on the Rez. Sharp, one of the Corbiere boys used to rent this place and opened up what turned out to be a temporary smoke shop selling cheap native smokes. Trash, crushed smoke packs and old beer bottle labels fluttered in a some secret breeze, yet she lay in a heap in a corner as still as stone. She looked as though carved from a single mass of alabaster, gleaming in the moonlight which forced itself through gaping holes in the roof. That fat moon up there, resting in a starless sky. My own beer bottle clatters to the floor.
By Gish Moore5 months ago in Fiction
