Pre-COVID, we met, early Saturdays, in the Midtown Market. Few stirred: lady mall cop, staff from the attached hospital, lone coffee shop doing brisk business, shops from around the world setting up. We were inspired by Heaven’s scents. Continue reading “I Got Life”
The Chevy accelerates and tops the hill’s summit, before twisting and plunging into the ravine. A duffle bag and body detach, and arc onto the dirt shoulder. They disappear into the dust cloud created by the truck’s struggle with the gravel road. Continue reading “The Open Road”
A little flash fiction around a prompt of “Wife Carrying.” Because maybe that’s the true test of a strong partnership:
It’d never occurred to them that their participation might not be welcome. Celebrating the fortitude and stamina required to go the distance in marriage–what better way to do this than with a test of physical endurance? Continue reading “All Are Welcome Here”
Step One: 99 word flash, to include “beans”
It was definitely not what I was expecting. I thought we’d celebrate Bucky’s return from her Antarctic dogsled adventure with a lavish meal, and go shake our butts at a dance club. Maybe not that last one. Bucky’d only been home for two weeks.
What I saw was Bucky on the couch in sweats and wool socks, legs folded underneath her, spoon dipping into a can of baked beans.
I hid my dismay, but not well enough.
“When you’ve been living off a dogsled, a can of beans is a feast.”
I sighed, grabbing a spoon from the kitchen. Continue reading “Rodeo Event #4: Bucky’s Baked Beans, A Love Story with Two Spoons”
A thin blanket over vibrant late summer.
Silent white, still as death,
Satisfying in its containment.
Sophie gazed down the long oaken table, half-light of a dozen candle sticks melted to shining copper holder. She squinted to blur the face drooping at table’s end. Continue reading “Runner”
Wind howls down the street, down the sidewalk and hill, so difficult to tackle on mornings like today. Icy shards lift, whip around and slap Laurel’s cheeks as she trudges against the wind. She swears, wishing she’d strapped ice grippers onto her hiking boots. The sun limns the hilltop. Continue reading “A Cold Walk With Janus”
She picks up a marble, rolling and squeezing it in her palm at a searing memory of betrayal. Continue reading “Scraps From the Past”