Leah Gabriel
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Stories (16)
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the last bus
He was very clearly sat on the bench there, under the bus shelter, and yet the No. 23 just rattled by as though Tommy weren't real. The street had faded to several shades of gray, movement and sound were muted at the darkened hour. These facts probably lent to why the bus operator blew past the stop. There could be a hundred reasons why the bus left Tommy alone on that bench that weren't at all related to Tommy. The man at the wheel could be exhausted, stressed, hungover, or worse, drunk.
By Leah Gabrielabout a year ago in Fiction
ghost stars
I recognized the sound of the train from the dream I'd been having. In the dream, I was with John and we were happy. John and I, happy together, on a train? That's how I knew it was a dream. I still had my eyes closed and I winced as my head bounced against the window where I'd rested it as I slept.
By Leah Gabriel3 years ago in Fiction
pasta salad
There are few things in life as dependable as a pasta salad. The simplicity in preparation alone is enough to recommend it. One bowl, one cutting board, and one good knife and you're in business! So forgiving in its demands that even the most naive and inexperienced of home cooks can arrive at the church picnic with no fear of overhearing unfortunate whispered gossip about their potluck contribution. Conversely, the endless possibilities in ingredients allow for inspired creativity when prepared by an, ahem...seasoned chef.
By Leah Gabriel4 years ago in Feast
north fork
In the summer of 1988, I was twelve years old. That's the summer our cabin burned down. The Red Bench Fire was a monster of a wildfire that ate its way through northwest Montana, including a portion of Glacier National Park. At the time, this was an anomaly. The terrifying and widespread conflagrations that have been attributed to climate change were not yet a thing of the news.
By Leah Gabriel4 years ago in Families
