In Celle, below the hilltop town of Cortona, we silently walked the paths St. Francis had once walked. By then, after days of reading about him and others, I felt jaded about the martyrdom of the saints; I felt cynical … Continue reading →

I’m trying to paint a picture so real. A cityscape of life in America. I spill the paints onto the starched linen tablecloth and they begin to flow beneath

Returning to you, heart Collapsing with relief: You are the same. Nightly. Reliably contained. Fenced in, your comfort. Isolate me. Confine me. Hold my heart, hide my body. Meticulous. Designed. Expressionless. Within: A sing, a dance. Curse + flirt + … Continue reading →

Tiny chips from the damp, rusty bars that keep me locked away flake between my fingers as I squeeze them. Arching my neck, with my head just above the brown and grey rock ledge, I can just make out the … Continue reading →

Officer Hugh Collins knocked on Miss Missy Rafferty’s deep orange front door. He didn’t use the lion head knocker, just his bare knuckles. “Miss Rafferty, may I come in?

“Hey, that’s a bad word,” my niece shouts. She’s seven and smart already a good reader, but the car is moving fast, and the sign passes in a blur. I pretend I don’t hear

The city looks pale and white from afar it always has and the surrounding light is blue cut out like a paper silhouette San Francisco is showing off like a Mediterranean city on a hill top a pattern of static … Continue reading →

The room was still veiled in semi-darkness, but a rod of light fell through the crack between the heavy green shutters and onto the faux satin of her bedspread, a messenger of the heat

He pulls over on a quieter stretch of PCH, right south of downtown Laguna—past the bustling crosswalks full of eager tourists, past the shirtless, brown men playing a game of pickup basketball, their white counterparts nearby punching

One leg kicks out backward, hits the toilet–– ouch: the dog

Matthew Abergel grew up in Salinas, California, and now lives in Sacramento and San Francisco. He has participated in Laguna Writers’ monthly manuscript group since its inception. From up here, a few stories above the intersection of Main and Alisal … Continue reading →

Welcome to Birdland Journal’s first issue of 2016! This online journal celebrates the diverse voices from Laguna Writers, Birdland Retreats and workshops. This year, we’re working with themes for each issue. For this one, our theme is creatures. Meet a diamond dog, and … Continue reading →

Okay, Crazy Lady, okay Crazy Lady. Attack! I will eat your leg! Arrrgghhh! Wait! What’s that? Someone in the bathroom? The kitty room? Someone using my litterbox? Huh? Coming in now, paw here, door open. Hello? What’s this guy doing?

I awoke to find I was in a cell with other prisoners, all of us bound, lightly floating, unable to direct our movements, unable to inflict pain. There were six of us, all old and fat behind the carapace. A … Continue reading →

Did you see the 1984 movie, The Never Ending Story? I am the star, or rather I am named after the star, Falkor. My masters call me Falkie.

He was close enough I could see his armature, his chest like finely layered lace,

I admit that my first instinct is to kill an insect, any insect, when the sight of its tiny black body appears in my line of vision. Though I have taken several vows “not to kill”

I’m doing that thing. That thing I’m good at. Acting like I don’t care. When, in actual fact, if I’m being honest, it’s all I can think about. Oh my God. I’m so excited. Birds in the trees, birds on the … Continue reading →