Steve Bailey's Blog
The Fields of Santa Clara
Father Pepe swept the volcanic ash off the sidewalk leading to his church. The narrow shoulders on his slight frame moved back and forth in rhythm as he worked his way down the walkway. A young man approaching middle age, Father Pepe appeared delicate but wiry.
The volcano had never erupted in an explosion of lava. Instead, it constantly belched out the ash that covered the town of Santa Clara and the fields of coffee plants nearby, like God emptied his ashtray over the land.
What happens to Father Pepe and the village of Santa Clara? Find out in:
The Fields of Santa Clara now in The Bookends Review
Four Recently Published
A Zoom Wedding
A humorous peice that appeared in 101 Words
Sludge Cakes
This is a very short piece that appeared in 50 more or Less
Published in Commuter Lit
A flash fiction story.
As the editor said" "This could get confusing."
Published in Discretionary Love
A short story about a woman coping with her husband's slide into insanity. Mildred Martin
The Doll Wife Reprint
Quoth the Owl ,Nevermore
I could hear him in the late afternoons when golden summer sunlight pushes through the trees and makes the leaves facing it look luminescent against their counterpart's black background. He would hoot from a tree in the wooded lot behind my house...
This just came out in Canary, an environmentally-themed journal. Quoth the Owl ,Nevermore