A long week and well deserved weekends rest.
Empty bottles and cans are proof.
Jagged emotions and shark toothed jabs.
Loved us the only way he knew how.
We worked together as an efficient team.
Caring disguised by being strict and the booze mask.
Was I a good boy, or just too scared to say anything?
He is my dad, my provider.
I usually forgive him, to make it to the next day.
The booze mask turns words to hurt.
Love is twisted in the smoke and hangovers.
Fate was …that I once wore that mask also.
Hated and loved by others and myself, I began to understand it all.
A blade cuts, but words can pierce a heart and scar.
A barrage of Big Book Chips smother the mask.
I was a good boy and now thrive as an enriched man.
__Ron Anderson, 66, Superior, MT
Trouble the Water (microfiction in 100 words)
I am awake even before I open my eyes. The remnants of an unsettling dream come
rushing into my consciousness with a surge of panic.
I dreamed my room was filled with turbid water. Tendrils of drifting seaweed hung from
the dark beams. I was frantically searching for something. Someone.
I tore through thick laminaria, lungs straining. In spite of my efforts, I found her lifeless.
Haunted by the spirits of grief and guilt, am I destined to be tortured in dreams as in
Then, as if behind my ear, I hear a voice so close I shiver.
__Robin Cain, 62, Stillwater, MN