Sean Cavanagh-Voss
Stories (15)
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Sitting in the Sand
Dusk came early on March the 5th 1989. The rise and fall of breakers. Wind in the palms. He pulled the baggy blue jeans up from the edge of his buttocks. Forgot his belt. Again. He tapped the industrial torch against the heel of his hand. Batteries rattled inside the casing like maracas. It blinked away the darkness. And the things he’d heard in it. Popcorn fireworks. Dogs barking. The roar of the engine. His boots sunk in the sand as he trudged along the coastline. It was like walking on suction cups. Cicadas rattled in the trees. By now, the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. The only light was the torch in his hand that glittered off the waterline. No moon. Even the stars seemed dimmer.
By Sean Cavanagh-Voss5 years ago in Criminal
It Happened...
One day, there was a dog – a little Shih Tzu with a name only he knew – strolling along a naked ravine unquenched by the summer drought. At the end of the ravine, embedded in moss-covered concrete slabs, there sat a drainage pipe rusted orange. Woof-woof, thought the dog, panting out the scalding mid-afternoon day. Perhaps he was excited to watch the turtledoves drink from what little the ravine had left to give. He padded towards the potential companions, his tail dancing back and forth as his floppy brown ears flapped in the breeze. But these were not the friends he sought, for as he moved upon them, the turtledoves screeched out and up towards the burning ball in the sky. He then lowered his head and busied himself by sniffing along the concrete to play off his embarrassment at the stark display of rejection.
By Sean Cavanagh-Voss5 years ago in Petlife
