The wind took its turn ripping through the street, sending whistles past my ears and pulling flags taught. Thunder roared and shook the rail that I leaned on as shadows flared on the side of the café across from my house. Lightning bolts blew by, their light twisting garbage cans and telephone poles into grotesque distortions of black spattered across a golden wall like gargoyles slithering into position along the bricks. That was when I saw them.
My short story Rohs Petals was recently selected for publication in the anthology series Ohio’s Emerging Writers.