by Penni Jones

I watched and listened as they spoke in tongues, products of religious ecstasy or overactive temporal lobes. They were all sure this display would save my soul. I felt bad for them. They tried so hard. I raised my hands in the air and started shrieking nonsense. The preacher smiled, satisfied with his own grandeur.


Penni Jones is a stay-at-home mom transplanted from the south to the frozen tundra known as Michigan. She writes during any free time she can find, and is currently revising her first novel, Hook-Ups and Heists.