Megan Stocke

“I picked up a fallen branch and struck a tree with it. Apples fell from the tree. The rope around one of the skeletons gave way and it fell to the ground. It lay there, crumpled and bent in ridiculous angles. I wondered if the person who the skeleton used to live inside would be embarrassed if he or she could see themselves now. I looked around the area but didn’t see any ghosts. Why would I see a ghost? They didn’t exist. Still, I looked a second time.”
― Eli Wilde, Orchard of Skeletons

“What (we) wanted more than anything was to be close to each other, washing the dirt and dust from each other’s faces after our train chases, brushing the tangles out of our hair, sharing advice about boys and basketball, learning how to curse, grabbing a bottle of Coca-Cola and a Moon Pie from Mr. Shotts’ grocery store after school, dipping in a pond during the seven steamy months of the year.”
― Karen Hinton, Penis Politics: A Memoir of Women, Men and Power

“Charlie said your friend’s disappeared,” chirped Wendy.
“No, he hasn’t.” Adam denied it. “He’s in the house. Now, look, what’s all this you’ve been telling them?”
“Nothing, I haven’t told them anything.” Charlie looked drunk.
“He said you’ve turned your friend into a crayfish,” insisted Wendy.
“He’s always making little jokes like that, and you fell for it. How am I supposed to do that, for heaven’s sake?” Adam was angry.
“With your little book you found. What’s that under your arm?”
― Max Nowaz, Get Rich or Get Lucky

“The disturbing part is that no one teaches us how to deal with death at any point during our medical training, or even during our lifetime for that matter, particularly in a field such as mine where death was an inevitable certainty for some patients.”
― DEAN MAFAKO, M.D., Burned Out