Jean McKinney

Joined December 2016

0 stories

Bio

Writer and illustrator reporting back from the places where the mundane meets the magical, every Tuesday and Friday. Creator of the fantasy worlds of the Moon Road and Sorrows Hill. Learn more and get a free story at my LinkTree.

Stories (18/0)

Run with the Moon
Deep in the hour just before dawn, Adam jolts awake. What did he hear, out there on the old Airstream’s makeshift front porch? Or was it nothing but a dream of gunfire and roadside bombs in that other desert, half a world away?
By Jean McKinneyabout 10 hours ago in Fiction
When Lucy's Ready
When Lucy’s ready . . . she’s ready. None of this slowstepping sweets and roses Cat dance of attraction:
By Jean McKinney3 days ago in Poets
Willie's Kisses
Willie’s been kissing snakes again. Late on these burning desert afternoons You'll see him sneaking out to the flat rocks
By Jean McKinney7 days ago in Poets
Wild Cards
Sixkiller feels like a blind man for a minute, stepping out of July sunlight into the reeking shadows of the cantina called Dos Portales. Breathing smells of leather and sweat and warm beer, he waits for his eyes to adjust to the dark so he can find the man he came to kill.
By Jean McKinney10 days ago in Fiction
If She Had Wings
If she had wings This girl would fly: Flex those great heavy things Dense with muscle and bone Just launch herself right out the window
By Jean McKinney14 days ago in Poets
The Ground She Walks On
I worship you, he said. He said, I’ll lock this door And draw those curtains closed And cut that phone line To keep you safe from the world.
By Jean McKinney17 days ago in Poets
Little Nights
Don’t dance with me. This is lovers’ music. And tonight My heart’s just a half size too small for you. Those old smiles and sideways words are falling far away.
By Jean McKinney21 days ago in Poets
Glitter Girl
If you’re coming in, shut the door behind you. Lock in what’s left of the cool. Hundred and ten in the shade and not even noon yet. It’s a wonder this old Airstream don’t melt clean away.
By Jean McKinney24 days ago in Fiction
Preacher Said
Preacher said That humpbacked beast called sin Waits just at the edge of sight. If you turn your back He’s on you, just like that green slime thing
By Jean McKinney28 days ago in Poets
Sleep Tight, Shaggy Maggie
Down on Broad Street, the crackheads drift like dirty wraiths through the ruins of their burned out squats and homeless men in baggy jackets push shopping carts full of soda cans past the shattered windows of dead stores. It’s an autumn midnight and the bars are closing, so the hookers lean against chipped brick walls here on the fringes of downtown, one eye out for business and the other out for the cops.
By Jean McKinneyabout a month ago in Fiction
The Woman Who is Part Horse
The woman who is part horse Tends bar these days down at the Diamond Dust. Late on smoky nights When old country and early Elvis tunes
By Jean McKinneyabout a month ago in Poets
At Mama Silva's
At the tail end of the night Cement’s too gritty on your back And fog blinds the alleys South of Spring Street. So you creak to your feet
By Jean McKinneyabout a month ago in Poets

Jean McKinney

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(18/0)

Run with the Moon

When Lucy's Ready

Willie's Kisses

Wild Cards

If She Had Wings

The Ground She Walks On

Little Nights

Glitter Girl

Preacher Said

Sleep Tight, Shaggy Maggie

The Woman Who is Part Horse

At Mama Silva's

Stories (18/0)