recollections of my father falling into the Capilano River when I was four

Photo by kazuend on Unsplash

I can’t make it to the top without the pull from my sister. The round rocks slippery from the green stuff that floats in the river keep makin’ my sneakers stick between. Mucks them up. I gotta…


Jeanine’s display is in the back room of the warehouse. She sits atop a stool too high for her plump little legs, but her clog heels dangle on the stool’s step and balance her upright. Her purple bangs fall between her face and glasses. It makes…

Photo by Masaru Suzuki on Unsplash

— A short story on Canadian memories

We sat on damp cobble stairs outside Club Amnesia (I used a fake ID) in Gastown for hours. Probably twenty minutes. Alcohol steals time and memory. It can be equally generous and give it back. But it’s mostly a thief.

One, two, three…

Helene Taylor

Screenwriter. Playwright. Prose. Poetry. Musings. Chronic curiosity. Story Engine. Research fiend. Cynical Gen X slacker.

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