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You are not an accident, little one. You were in my care even before you were born. You have a place inside me still and always will. I have big plans for you, little one, plans as grand as galaxies and as unfathomable, but they mean nothing. Read the rest of this entry »

We first noticed changes at the library where we thought books knew their place. Every morning the new librarian had to track down The Wanderers and return it to its shelf. Read the rest of this entry »

Men are such boys, particularly husbands; they need daddy’s approval and mommy’s attention as long as they live. Unlucky the boy who outlives them as my husband did. Read the rest of this entry »

You’d think by now the house would be empty, but every Saturday she seems to have more to get rid of. When we moved into the neighborhood, she was putting out just one long rack of men’s clothing in the yard near the failing azalea bed, Read the rest of this entry »

You’ll say I’m making metaphors, but this is how it happened. You could ask around. There are witnesses, disappointed people who repeat the tale to teach their children a lesson. I was a diver with a feeling for the calculus. Read the rest of this entry »

I don’t know how long he’s been supposedly dead. Nobody will tell me. They don’t like me doing research either, but he’s all I ever overheard about. He’s the most exciting relative I never met. Read the rest of this entry »

When the world has too many parts and mine don’t fit, tango is another way to touch her. It can’t get me in trouble and always seems to please her, and I can drop in any time I have ten dollars and an evening hour free and wait my turn. Read the rest of this entry »

In her club are several who, while waiting for new hearts, have been revived half a dozen times. She herself has visited and been brought back repeatedly from the dead. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s understood the truth can not be told. At best we see what passes by the peephole, a monocled distortion barely glimpsed through a fog of curved glass, apprehended but incommunicable. Read the rest of this entry »

They came to me when the first one didn’t work out. Ignoring procedure, they placed the baby on the baby scale themselves: cheeks like plums and blowing spit bubbles. A boy, I guessed, from all the blue. Read the rest of this entry »

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Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.

Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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