I like dark chocolate and sometimes have a piece in the morning with my coffee. There’s a brand of individually wrapped pieces called Dove™ that includes brief thoughts and statements inside the wrapper. With our preparation for the holiday season each year, my wife buys bags of them and–one year–I thought to begin on December […]
A moment in time as told by a grandmother to her granddaughter that highlights the heightened feelings of first love and her discovery of the true meaning of Christmas. Song on the Wind (a link to the story is also further below) was my 2016 Christmas story. On 12/8/2018 I’ll re-share my 2017 Christmas Story WHITE […]
“Life was as delicate as the paper held in her hand.” Lessons learned… from what was found in the old trunk.
Head still down, she looked at the vines that started under the dead leaves lying before her. Following the green of their winding on the trees that lined the path brought her eyes up, climbing their height as the vines did. They were life; growing infinitesimally and breathing as she looked at them. And as her head lifted she saw in the distance an opening through the trees at the crest of the hill she’d labored to climb but was only halfway there.
On Monday August 30, 1993, I got the call I do remember. Shock is too thin a word. The hardest hit to the most sensitive part of a man doesn’t come close to conveying how I felt when my brother told me my mother had shot herself. She was only 61.
As you get older, your experiences… the paths you’ve walked in life… all you know and have become (and what or who made you that way) rest in your memories. They sleep… but they’re there, yes they are and sometimes they’re lively and churn around. A sound, a smell, a picture; some little thing shakes […]
Night fell and brought a different wind, one stripped of the day’s heat, coming from the sea beyond the sunbaked beach below. I breathed deeply, drawing the freshness, its tang… that scent of where the sea meets a foreign land… deep into my lungs. An exotic aroma that always teased the possibilities of the evening […]
I had seen her a few times. What she was doing in this hole wasn’t my business. But she didn’t fit in. Nice clothes; her face, an un-inked ivory oval framed by dark hair, caught the dim lights in the bar. Eye’s that if the light was better would have probably been a bright blue. And curves; the kind to make a train jump the tracks. Distracting, follow her every move just to see things shift under her clothes, kind of curves.
Began writing mid-January 2018; just passed the 72,000-word mark. Historical fiction (my fourth story/project in the genre) for publication Spring 2019.