by Jason Bovberg | Aug 31, 2012 | Stories
Virginia sighed out of a dream about laughing toys. Her bedroom lay quiet and warm. She listened to the breath of the wind outside her window. Quietly, she stepped out of bed, grabbed her teddy bear like an afterthought, and tiptoed to the window. She nudged the...
by Jason Bovberg | Aug 10, 2012 | Stories
Brett put aside his shovel and stared into the hole, thinking, Julie, what have you done? Lurking behind his inner question was the vivid memory of the barking and the whining. As recently as last night! It had irritated him, too, at three o’clock in the morning, when...
by Jason Bovberg | Jul 10, 2012 | Stories
I am on the B Train, reading the stark, black typeface of today’s headline: Religious Murders Escalate. The picture of the most recent victim stares up at me. A man this time, probably late thirties. Pale face, blank eyes. I drop the paper to my lap. I loosen my tie...
by Jason Bovberg | Jun 18, 2012 | Stories
Lightning splintered on the bleak horizon, beyond the sprawling, rain-soaked runways of Denver International Airport. Not a swell day to fly, thought Stephen Lindsay, perched on his barstool. He swiveled back nervously to face his double whiskey. Lucky I’m not flying....
by Jason Bovberg | Jun 4, 2012 | Stories
Her only memory of the end was of great, winged beasts descending upon the earth. Had that really happened or had she imagined it? She thought about the creatures often, most often at night, behind tightly closed eyes. Maybe the answer to her question did not really...
by Jason Bovberg | May 25, 2012 | Stories
The morning William woke up missing his left ear, the sky was overcast. The gray day made him drowsy and kept him unconscious well past his usual waking time. He lifted his head reluctantly from the pillow, aching to drift back into slumber but knowing he ought to get...
