Tag: Words


  Glitter gets the attention, but for all its flash, it is delicate, vulnerable.  The wind or a breath can easily carry it away. Glue sticks.  It helps the glitter hold on.  Glue can be in glitter’s fairy dust presence, but glue is covered, underneath.  They are a suited pair. I remember being in early grammar school…

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I need to cut down on the commas and take a break from the incomplete sentences. I don’t normally have a lot of rules for this blog, but enough is enough. As the new year gets rolling, I’ve looked back at some of my 2014 posts.  Usually, I write what comes to mind and then it’s gone.  I…

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Last Few Loads

It is the first day of December.  Here come the moods. Not all bad moods, not all warm and fuzzy moods, just moods.  December is a moody month for me.  I think a lot during the middle months, so December, the last month, the end to a year, a holiday month, really gets me going.…

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New Dryer

I sit sweating at the back of a room I’ve never been before. Years of rehearsed excuses taunt. I’m not like these people, not as bad. A woman stands. “Hello, my name is Sara and I’m . . .” I close the door behind me.

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Broken Zipper

Twenty gates shot open on a crisp morning. Dirt slapped at thunderous legs and her mouth foamed. The roar of lofty hats grew louder. She was close, wanted to please, but pain followed a snap and her shoulder hit the ground first.    

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Drip Dry

She stumbled out of the bar, as she had seamless nights before. Mouth like cotton, the dull streetlights again swirled dizzy. Beers to shots by midnight and a bouncer’s grip by two. Slouched in a taxi, she wondered where she was heading.    

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Torn Dress

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…

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Shiny Material

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.…

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Stretch Fabric

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…

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