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 Smith2026-08-08 17:27:482026-08-08 21:40:44TOMMY’S RATS
KETTLE OF ONE. Igor was a smart bastard. That’s what Pete the trapper said. But Igor was also an only bastard, the last free-flying California condor on earth. Condors are sociable birds; they roost and preen and feed in groups called kettles, and by the spring of 1987, Igor was a kettle of one. No […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/CONDOR.jpeg501399Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2026-08-08 10:26:222026-08-08 21:34:39EXTINCT
Her children were dead, her husband in critical condition. But Joy had not joined them that July evening for the little family outing, was not there when they were hit by a drunk in a speeding pick-up; Joy was unscathed. Which is to say, she was destroyed. It turns out death is not the problem. […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/SNOW-GEESE-TAKING-OFF.jpeg8001200Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2026-08-02 23:46:212026-08-03 23:53:39SNOW GOOSE
Wait. Where was that at? Sheeeeeeee, wasn’t no ball one, that was my sickest, most filthiest Lord Charles, man, completely unhittable pitch, kisses the corner then drops to the dirt—come on, Har-vold. Okay okay, just ball one, suck it up, suck it up, like Head Doctor says, demeanor on the mound, no flouncin’ around flinging […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/GNATS.jpeg350642Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2026-07-12 22:39:342026-08-06 22:41:36HOLY GHOST
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. Men […]
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 23:55:01SNOWBALL
Near Joshua Tree National Monument, a woman lounges with her son on a small concrete patio outside the yellow bungalow at the end of Wagon Wheel Road. Their aluminum chairs face the arroyo, where boulders like the backs of elephants—august, copious, renowned—cast cartoonishly large shadows. A beat-up card table bears the remains of the woman’s […]
https://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/ANTS.jpg511391Patricia C Smithhttps://www.patriciacanrightsmith.com/draft/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/logo-papyrus-works-02-300x99.pngPatricia C Smith2026-03-06 00:09:072026-08-06 00:09:41FORMICATION
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 […]
EXTINCT
FictionKETTLE OF ONE. Igor was a smart bastard. That’s what Pete the trapper said. But Igor was also an only bastard, the last free-flying California condor on earth. Condors are sociable birds; they roost and preen and feed in groups called kettles, and by the spring of 1987, Igor was a kettle of one. No […]
SNOW GOOSE
FictionHer children were dead, her husband in critical condition. But Joy had not joined them that July evening for the little family outing, was not there when they were hit by a drunk in a speeding pick-up; Joy was unscathed. Which is to say, she was destroyed. It turns out death is not the problem. […]
HOLY GHOST
FictionWait. Where was that at? Sheeeeeeee, wasn’t no ball one, that was my sickest, most filthiest Lord Charles, man, completely unhittable pitch, kisses the corner then drops to the dirt—come on, Har-vold. Okay okay, just ball one, suck it up, suck it up, like Head Doctor says, demeanor on the mound, no flouncin’ around flinging […]
SNOWBALL
FictionA 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. Men […]
FORMICATION
FictionNear Joshua Tree National Monument, a woman lounges with her son on a small concrete patio outside the yellow bungalow at the end of Wagon Wheel Road. Their aluminum chairs face the arroyo, where boulders like the backs of elephants—august, copious, renowned—cast cartoonishly large shadows. A beat-up card table bears the remains of the woman’s […]