Descant Magazine, Journey Prize nominee
“Why do they call it Goat Island?” Margo asked.
The woman looked at Margo. They were standing in January sunshine at the Niagara Falls viewing area called Table Rock, their backs to the gift shop and restaurant. The woman had appeared while Margo was uneasily eyeing an ice-encrusted stone wall and wrought-iron railing, built to protect people from tumbling headlong into Niagara Falls.
Margo had visited this exact spot four or five times before, but she’d mistakenly remembered the wall as being solid stone, and much higher. She’d forgotten that sections of sinuously curved wrought-iron railing rested on top of the wall, which was actually quite low; the wall and railing together were no more than five feet high….read complete story
Descant Magazine, CBC Literary Awards nominee
When Glenn Palmer and his brother, Dwight, saw my police cruiser come around the bend of the fifteenth side road they both froze. Glenn was caught straddling the metal gate that leads out of Jim Lloyd’s land. As I drew level I could see that all his weight was on one heel that rested precariously on a crossbar; the toe of his work boot stuck out towards me. Glenn’s other leg hung loosely behind the gate’s steel bars.
Dwight was leaning into the cab of their pick-up truck, his head twisted around to watch me. It wasn’t until I stopped and wound down my window that he swung the door shut and strode up to me, grinning. He asked me how I was doing and squatted on his haunches. Dwight balanced himself with a hand resting on the frame of my open window. His knuckles were bruised, and streaked with black-scabbed grazes….read complete story
– You must be Sven. It’s good to meet you in the flesh, so to speak, says Eric, my new client. But then, once I’m inside the door, he won’t look me in the eye.
– I only do this part time, I’m a web site designer actually, I say, which is a line I use if I think someone needs to believe they’re not really paying for sex. If I was honest I’d have to admit I say it for myself too. It’s probably a male thing, I doubt a woman escort, or her trick, would be in denial about conducting the oldest business transaction in the world. Eric hasn’t told me much. Although he was quick to tell me he was e-mailing me for his wife. You’d be amazed the number of times I get hired for someone else: a boyfriend for a girlfriend, or the other way round….read complete story