Author Archives: Catastrophe Jones
Dec 24th
Every year, the same traditions, the same memories binding us together. There are those who think of them as a mud that weighs down our feet, keeps us from moving. I like to think they are the mortar that holds … Continue reading
Together
We crept along the hoary ridge, boots breaking the blades of green-grey glass under our feet. We did not look down, but ahead, toward our prize. Home. A veritable feast awaited us, ready to assail our senses. We knew it, … Continue reading
The Next Morning
After the longest night of the year, we waited quietly for the morning to come. We held hands and sang lowly, in the cold, our breath mingling in frosty fog. We did not know the world had passed us by, … Continue reading
I was cold then
I haven’t been this cold since the time I died, and you didn’t want to be near me. My eyes were still open, and you said it was creepy, and you wished you’d had someone shut them for you, because … Continue reading
In some other life
In some other life, we hung stockings and filled them. Our three children had to be shooed off to bed every night so we could wrap presents and eat the candy we told them not to eat too much of. … Continue reading