by JL Jacobs | Mar 26, 2020 | Short Fiction
Cutting The grass grows so fast with all the rain. Seemingly depthless pools sit inside hollow trunks. It is early Saturday morning, and the mower, in some way elementary, roars, wets leaves, and allows a feeling another kind of quietness. What remains is an innate...
by JL Jacobs | Mar 16, 2020 | Short Fiction
Freshly Baked Bread “Happy birthday, Mom!” Carol’s sing-song voice came through Mom’s kitchen speaker phone. “Oh, Carol, I’m glad it’s you, honey. I was going to call you tonight because I wanted to tell you that Dad and I have a present for you.” “But, Mom, It’s your...
by JL Jacobs | Mar 2, 2020 | Short Fiction
On Becoming French Okies “French” invokes Paris, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, fine cuisine and wine. But there are other places where “French” has fostered for centuries. With name like “Boudreau” and my wife, Dorothy, maiden name being “Cottreau” and both...
by JL Jacobs | Feb 3, 2020 | Short Fiction
A Life I remember when she first asked me. We were sitting by the water of the lake, waiting for her boyfriend. It was cold. She made me promise we would go together, get on a plane together and fly away to Norway. She said, “Baby.” She said, “Please, let me go soon.”...
by JL Jacobs | Jan 31, 2020 | Short Fiction
Neshamele She is listening to love songs. She steps inside them and swims through her ears, breath held, and comes out the other side falling. She wants to find herself in the violence but she is never there, so she picks another fight with you, pressing into your...
by JL Jacobs | Jan 27, 2020 | Short Fiction
Let the Light Shine Through the Cracks “Did you come up here to sleep with me?” Charles asks when he sets the cup of coffee in front of me. “Did I miss that? Was I not supposed to actually make you coffee?” Charles is unlike any man I have...