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Until my hitchhiker showed me her gun, I’d been speculating whether crazy and neglect could render a woman nearly unrecognizable since I’d last seen her. She’d chosen a shockingly dangerous place to flag down cars, Read the rest of this entry »

Our fear of tooth decay is functional; of saber-tooth tigers is not; of decay—or for that matter decadence—as a destination, can’t keep us from turning into soup bones and stew. It might save us some pain if being afraid kept us from visiting the dentist, but once we’re in the chair, it only makes things worse. Read the rest of this entry »

Even professionals need roommates in this town if they want to live anywhere close to the action. He’s been gone a month and now I need a new one, but only freaks are responding. You’d think with the rent I’m charging they’d self-select, but everybody thinks they can afford it. Read the rest of this entry »

First of all, I’m not saying whether I saw anything or not unless I already know you, be that as it may, but on top of that, why you’re asking me is what I want to know, with those fake-looking credentials. Read the rest of this entry »

We can’t just weep on paper and call it Book of Tears. We can’t just stab the book and call it Rage, but certain stories are more physical fact than art. Read the rest of this entry »

Saturdays the punishing sun lashes the asphalt of our tormented neighborhood. The fresh tar simmers underfoot. We’ve come together where the sidewalks meet the street, each tethered to a different house by an orange extension cord. 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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