

A Large, Black GhostA LARGE, BLACK GHOST By Anthony SmithA Large, Black Ghost
When the morning came there was a little bird at the kitchen window and Abigail had already made breakfast twice. Upstairs the little boy was sleeping underneath a comforter his father bought for him when he was still alive a month ago. She thought of waking him but washed her hands instead. The water burned clean. The food was getting cold. The little boy dreamt of a beach with two dogs playing and a sea that stretched out towards forever.
When it got there, he woke up and shivered a little in the early cold before he realized that he was sad the night before a


Like in the StoriesLike in the Stories By Anthony SmithLike in the Stories
On the day that Bill arrived, there was the post-funeral procession there always is but he was still proud enough to think they had prepared it just for him. Trumpets sounded first, and then died out. Next came a little silence, followed by a cool breeze that seemed to last forever. But that, too, ended. The sun shone, and he could still feel it. He wondered if that would go away one day, feeling.
The other souls were shuffling anxiously. A little girl tinkered impatiently with her new halo. Poor thing, he thought, and kept on thinking.
On a nearby cloud,


The Fisherman's LureThe Fishermans Lure By Anthony Smith (For Ben, with great affection) There is a man fishing on a lake in Upstate New York. His stomach is fat and full from breakfast, and it is only by the grace of good clothing that it can remain tucked away like a secret inside his button-down shirt. He hasnt shaved because he has no one for whom to shave. Women find his appearance repulsive, and when they do not, he finds theirs appalling. He is also a smoker and as such has a mouth that tastes like a distant relatives overeager kisses.The Fisherman's Lure
He often muses that when there is no one there with whom to share it, t