Domino

In the darkly comic, DOMINO, a family finds themselves the victims of fate on the 4th of July.

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Sample

   Mrs. Bogart bopped her husband. 

   "What were you doing? You're so stupid! You don't stand in front of a running lawn mower! What were you doing?"

   "Help—me—get—him—up," Spencer took control and measured his words.

   Katie and her mom helped Spencer lift Mr. Bogart to his good foot, and they hopped him into the house. They eased him into his armchair with his blood puddling a red lake on the hardwood floor.

   "God. This is major," said Spencer.

   "Call 911," responded Katie.

   Mrs. Bogart began to shake and cry. "Oh no—o! No—o!"

   "By the time they get here in this traffic he'll have bled to death," Spencer continued. "We have to get him to the hospital."

   "You're so stupid!" screamed Mrs. Bogart to her husband. "What were you doing?" She cried and swatted him again.

   "Stop hitting me and get me some rope," said Mr. Bogart.

   "You're not making things better, mother," Katie scolded.

   "Where's a belt or some rope?" asked Spencer. "We have to tie off the blood flow."

The Transmogrification of Dracul: a COVID Epitaph

(opening)

A heavy fog crept out of the river, rolled up its sodden banks, licked into tree barks and the still bare whippets of the underbrush. Little did anyone suspect that this all pervasive fog was the vampyr’s earliest calling card, a clammy, putrid fog, humid, almost cool but somewhere between winter and spring. It clung to the skin, corpse-like. There was no refuge from its sickly caress. I drew a finger across my forearm and tasted the beading droplets.

Water recycled throughout time, circulating through epochs and histories and bodies distilled a sense memory of the vampyr’s purpose, foreboding panic in his prey, terror-stricken serfs, streetwalkers, housemaids, sailors on night patrol. This water coursed through their lives in the moment they fell victim and resonated now to his call. Apprehension overwhelmed me. I sensed a hastening approach, travelers from an unfamiliar shore, hoofbeats, masts, roaring engines, his unwitting accomplices disembarking.

....

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