To avoid my brother’s ex-wife’s idiot brother and his cousins, my brother and I would walk across rooftops to get around San Francisco. One evening, we saw groups of men smoking and placing bets on the rooftops near Chinatown. They… Read More ›
Elle Peyarre’s Short Stories (fiction)
From the Past into the Future
It was raining. I was going to the Great Dickens Christmas Fair at the Cow Palace in south San Francisco. It was a gray day with strong clouds. The sound of tires slicing through the wet street was comforting. It… Read More ›
Fool’s Gold – Part 6
‘Trouble at its finest,’ Madame Selene, the proprietess smiled as she admired us as she sat on a chair with one of her young whores fanning her in front of her brothel ship-bar. ‘Well walk the plank and come in!’… Read More ›
The Man with Green Eyes
My sister was having one of her backyard bonfires at night. We were listening to Native American chanting and drums. My teenage nephew was wearing a cap with faux antlers sticking out. I decided to take pictures from my phone…. Read More ›
Fool’s Gold – Part 5
We quietly rode back to the bay area which had more ships docked with white sails. The town had grown since I had last left it. As we rode our horses through the muddy dirt streets of crowded San Francisco,… Read More ›
Fool’s Gold – Part 4
We rode our horses in silence. The dead Spaniard in our thoughts. Then I asked a question, ‘All these years and you were in Yerba Buena and our paths didn’t cross?’ ‘Maybe I did know you were there but just… Read More ›
Fool’s Gold – Part 3
We kept moving and a set up camp near a flowing river. After building a fire to warm myself, I went ahead and slept. In the morning, I jumped into the river, gasping and shivering and cussing at how cold… Read More ›
Fool’s Gold – Part 2
The whole night the inn burnt and I walked back to Chinatown and the old lady let me sleep in her stuffy opium den filled with other people, other races, dazed and lost in the high. I woke up in… Read More ›
Fool’s Gold – Part 1
1849 was only two years ago and the ships have flooded Yerba Buena cove. Whispers were going around that they were going to call that place San Francisco. I am across that damn bay drinking in a haphazard wooden shack… Read More ›
Elle Peyarre - The Magazine 