If I lived in a lighthouse, I would bake fresh bread every Saturday and my cookie jar would always be full. I would wear wellies, worn out jeans, and sweaters. I would have a big down coat with a fur trimmed hood. When I came in from outside, I would leave my boots at the…
The letter fell to the floor twenty minutes before nine. Smearing lipstick across her tear soaked face, it was clear she had lost her grip. She sat, one shoe, and waited for the rats to crawl through her forgotten wedding cake mind. That’s all from the laundry room. Lost Dream. Forty-two words exactly. The…
I have always wanted to play an instrument. Well, let me say that when I go to the symphony, or I see people playing instruments with ease and proficiency, I feel…I feel like I want that in my life. I want to play the cello, I want to be on stage when the lights dim,…
Granted it was all balancing on a relaxing weekend, but with car and laundry clean, I was optimistic. Five minutes into the Monday commute, a gooey glop hit my shiny weekend window. Fragile is the state that simple bird crap can topple. Prompt this week…Why do birds suddenly appear?
The breeze whispered sheer black across her face. Gathered near the earthen void, someone asked, “What time is it?” It no longer mattered, she thought closing her eyes. The touch, Sunday breakfast, that laugh. Time had shattered into a million never agains. My response to this week’s Yeah Write.Me Gargleblaster. The prompt…Have all your clocks stopped? Exactly…
My forty-two words for Yeah Write’s Gargleblaster Challenge. The prompt…“Tell me something, old friend: why are you fighting?” She sat by me in the auditorium, more hair missing now than present under her scarf. The lights dimmed. “Why are we here? You should be…” “Shh. Our daughters are on stage. This is where I should be.” I held…
Here’s how my crush on Stephen King got started. Alys (Alys in Underland) wrote a review of The Shining. I had to read pieces of Shawshank Redemption in a film class I took forever ago, but I’d never read anything by Stephen King. Most of his books are creaky door scary and I don’t like to be scared.…
She knew she was not getting any younger. She told herself she needed to go for it, reach for it, take her turn. Was it her turn? When did she get in line? She told herself it didn’t matter. She woke up, stood up, and reached. Nothing. Her fingertips touched the smooth empty shelf. She strained…
Wait, what…but you said… When I was in the fourth grade there was a girl that was sort of in my group of friends, but not really. She was the cool girl that knew one of my friends because I think their brothers knew each other? I can’t remember and it’s not important. She, the…