dreamszilla

Tammy Lynn Peacock and her brother investigate the grisly death of their trailer park neighbour. Image generated with OpenAI Me and my brother were drinking beers on our stoop, watching the police swarm Todd's trailer like ants on a dropped French fry, when a plainclothes cop wandered over and asked us if we were the ones who discovered the body. "Richard and Tammy Lynn Peacock?" I took a sip of beer and nodded. Richie answered with a burp, and the cop introduced himself as Detective Manners. Once he confirmed we were the ones who called it in, he asked us questions we'd already been asked and answered, and then some. "Did Todd have any pets? A dog?" Richie shook his head, said, "Nope." "You're certain?" "Todd was petrified of dogs," I said, adding that when we was kids, we owned a little ass-licking pooch no bigger than a bunny, and yet Todd would throw his hands up and back away from us as if we had...

Despite a troubled childhood, Harriet Francis fosters a fascination with horses that sees her becoming one of the first female jockeys, but she is plagued by misfortune and alcoholism. Image generated with OpenAI I remember a woman on a gigantic bay horse galloping effortlessly to the top of a ridge. She brings the horse to a halt. From the throne of her saddle, she looks down at me and waves. Then the soothing voice of my mother brings me back to the trees and grass surrounding us. "Horse," my mother says to me. "Horse," I repeat. My mother didn't last long after my father returned home from Vietnam in a box. I can never forget the sight of her lying on the couch, a plastic bag tightly covering her head. Sometimes I wonder if I am still waiting for her gaping mouth to offer those sounds of reassurance that once drew me into her waiting arms where I squeezed her soft dark hair between my childhood fingers. I liked it at my aunt's hous...

In Mumbai, a child bakes cakes to help earn money while her father protests against the authorities who destroyed his shop. Image generated with OpenAI "Ameena, get the cakes. It's seven already!" " Ji, Ammi ." All yawny, Ameena dragged herself towards the basket in the corner. She opened the lid and stared at the contents curiously. Cakes, arranged in neat stacks, that had blossomed overnight under her watchful eye. Small, uniform cracks of golden brown in the middle. She poked one lightly, felt the soft spring of butter and flour, and smiled. With practiced care, she stacked them within a large container. Ameena's butter and vanilla flavoured cakes were very popular among the children of St. Judy's school, selling out by noon. Ameena revelled in watching little kids lick their butter-smeared fingers clean. She had begun this enterprise to bring joy to people. Joy, which she felt in baking the cakes. Joy, which she had felt the first...

Ex-con Arlo is hanging Christmas lights with his buddy Conant, but the job goes south when he is hired by a man he knew from prison. Image generated with OpenAI Arlo sat in the driver's seat of the Santa's Helpers van, staring through the windshield. The window was rimed with frost mixed with hardened dirt, but there was still enough clear glass for him to see through it. Across the street stood a nativity scene fronting Saint Ignatz High. The manger looked to be made of treated lumber, the straw bedding torn from one of those big Home Depot bales. Baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were made of plastic and glowed with electric light, while the wisemen and a dumb-faced donkey looked on, beatified by the baby god's glow. The passenger door opened and Conant got in. "Got you your hot chocolate, Santa." "'Preciate it." Arlo held out a hand without taking his eyes off the scene. "You know, you really should think about it, man. You'v...