The Old Woman Tries to Make Herself Useful The old joke about Tommy was she was a social scientist without the social. Now she’s gone feral. She watches herself with detached interest, as though she were a subject in one of the studies she used to quantify. In her mind, she is simply an extreme […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/07/lab-rats.png148148Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2026-07-18 17:27:482026-07-19 23:22:07TOMMY’S RATS
SNOWBALL A Christmas Story. In the north end of the parking lot, men in parkas and fat pants cluster around a black Yukon, joking, gesticulating, chumming to sub-woofers. The pulsing SUV sparks red, green and blue, and stories float and knock, though no one’s listening. Loose shadows, long limbs, everything moving—Honest John’s lets them be. […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/tabby-cat.jpeg447447Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2026-07-03 23:17:462026-08-03 23:21:00SNOWBALL
I’d just started sun salutations when I spotted it under the wax myrtle. A slumped rubbery thing, flat tire. Except it was three slumped rubbery things painted like a giraffe, all stacked up, glistening—a giant snake is what it was. Ever stuck a fork in the toaster? I kicked over my tea and bolted up […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/python.jpeg148200Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2025-04-02 15:20:462026-08-03 21:25:48GOD INTENDED
WHERE LUCY WENT Pinckney Wildlife Refuge. The thick dark enveloped Lucy as though welcoming her home, and her mind quieted. Without light, she could smell: pluff mud’s salty sparks, shell road’s chalky cornstarch. At Ibis Pond: grassy tang, earthy algae, something ammoniac; fresh water’s clean scent, and, barely discernible beneath piney loblollies and eggy […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/571184889_17850859851576335_1753950736928123507_n.jpg487390Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2025-03-31 22:47:152026-08-03 21:26:04WHAT LUCY DID
TOMMY’S RATS
FictionThe Old Woman Tries to Make Herself Useful The old joke about Tommy was she was a social scientist without the social. Now she’s gone feral. She watches herself with detached interest, as though she were a subject in one of the studies she used to quantify. In her mind, she is simply an extreme […]
SNOWBALL
FictionSNOWBALL A Christmas Story. In the north end of the parking lot, men in parkas and fat pants cluster around a black Yukon, joking, gesticulating, chumming to sub-woofers. The pulsing SUV sparks red, green and blue, and stories float and knock, though no one’s listening. Loose shadows, long limbs, everything moving—Honest John’s lets them be. […]
GOD INTENDED
FictionI’d just started sun salutations when I spotted it under the wax myrtle. A slumped rubbery thing, flat tire. Except it was three slumped rubbery things painted like a giraffe, all stacked up, glistening—a giant snake is what it was. Ever stuck a fork in the toaster? I kicked over my tea and bolted up […]
WHAT LUCY DID
FictionWHERE LUCY WENT Pinckney Wildlife Refuge. The thick dark enveloped Lucy as though welcoming her home, and her mind quieted. Without light, she could smell: pluff mud’s salty sparks, shell road’s chalky cornstarch. At Ibis Pond: grassy tang, earthy algae, something ammoniac; fresh water’s clean scent, and, barely discernible beneath piney loblollies and eggy […]