Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

Mackie

  • Never Needed Another, Anyway

    “How you doing, Mackie?” Claudia, the nymph, my little vixen, lying upon the grass, staring up at the clouds floating by, asked. Strawberry hair cut just below the ear, layered of course. She favored clove cigarettes on cool winter days like these, days before the freeze. The wind, soft and cool, fell over her, pulling Continue reading

  • The Weekenders

    It started with us lying on the bed, watching movies. Our Friday nights consisted of whatever film caught our attention and we’d hole up in my bedroom, drifting from this world into theirs. From boyhood tales like The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys to the demon-like aliens of Signs. These Fridays were ours. We dropped the Continue reading

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  • Ballade at Seventeen

    Pallor was my favorite color of flesh. The three of us were walking down Olsen Ave., Nicole walked a few steps ahead of us. Henry paused at a kiosk and bought a paper with images of last night’s incident. Fire had taken several of the club goers while we were off somewhere else, smoking old Continue reading

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  • “Waking up after a bad dream”

    I know I’m not too much of a bargain And you know that’s not what you bargained for –“The Good Old Days” Eels This is as close to normalcy that I can achieve.  I find it hard to accept so much as a cup of pity from those who love me. It’s a wonder, really. Continue reading

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