A house sprouts up amidst fir, redwoods, oak and a few bohemian misfits like cedar and manzanita. It speaks the language of the forest but it takes a geometric form that is alien to trees. It is autumn, the time of albacore, huckleberries and apples.“What are you?”...

  I'm working on a new book - The Frolic Cafe. I started this project some time ago but abandoned the idea for lack of time. I am now well into the writing/editing phase. Below are several collages you may recognize. These were the featured art for the first draft of...

  I see things. Out of the corners of my eyes. Bears in the woods. Snakes in the grass. Spiders in my bed. Warnings. They aren’t really there. But, they might be. And that’s the point. Better to see what isn’t there than miss what is. The dead watch us. They are out...

 Unfinished Short Stories© 2024 David Herstle Jones Think in The Morning Short stories are currently being edited for publication.  

 The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.   John 3:8 Born of the wind, wisdom speaks in whispers, howls, whistles, roars, bellows,...

  A tree filled with angels, bright angelic wings bespangling every bough like stars.   William Blake’s childhood vision   In the forest wood, among trees, without a path, trail, road, river, or star to find the way. Surrounded by dense underbrush, darkness and...

  Moon river, wider than a mileI'm crossing you in style some dayOh, dream maker, you heart breakerWherever you're goin', I'm goin' your wayTwo drifters, off to see the worldThere's such a lot of world to seeWe're after the same rainbow's endWaitin' 'round the bendMy...

  “I think it’s your shell.” “I have a shell?” “Of course, everything does.” “Everything?” “Well, clams, mussels, scallops, abalones, armadillos.” “Have you ever seen an armadillo?” “No, but I’ve read about them.” “That’s hearsay.  You can’t use it.” “Okay, beetles...

  But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.  Genesis 19:26 An ocean of fog lays over the headlands. It creeps up the rivers, slides up the trunks of giant redwoods, kisses mouths of ghosts who live in the space between sky and earth. A...

 Those who know do not tell,Those who tell do not know.                   Lao Tzu George Santayana, reading Moby Dick: In spite of much skipping, I have got stuck in the middle.                    David Markson, This Is Not A Novel We’re hooked on David Markson....

 I began to read at an early age. My parents divorced when I was around two. I lived with my mother and she read to me from as early as I can remember. Other than the newspaper, my father didn’t read much at all. He lived far away but we got together as much as we...

 We discovered Allegra Hyde’s novel by accident, by chance, or if you prefer by serendipity. The reclusive author, John Fowles, wrote this amazingly frank response to a high school student who queried him in a letter about the meaning of his book The Magus. Reality,...