Inspired by The Story of an Hour by Kate Chopin, 1894. “Darling, Mr. Crawford and his family will be coming to dinner tomorrow. Frank and I have much to discuss over the railroad so I will need you to entertain Mrs. Crawford and their children…” Brently whipped the newspaper he was holding in an attempt to […]
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“You have a lot of nerve, kid.” I couldn’t be certain, but that puff of air half resembled a laugh. He sat hunched over, a repugnant smirk on his face as I watched him from across the steel table watching the guard pacing in the corner. All the glory I knew in him was stripped […]
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They named her Francis the day she entered into their home. A lost and wounded woman forgetful of her nature, name, and needs. They named her Francis for the way her face drooped to the side like the monks of Franciscan art, their heads tilted downward inspecting their inner depths as if their ears were […]
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On a backdrop of war and tyranny the laughter of a child slips through to the aging cracks of my consciousness. With brown eyes bulging out, head tilt back, and the tip of her tongue pressed up against her nose she burst forth with magical energy that sent shocks of life back into bones I […]
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She wrapped the columns of her dreadlocks, silvered brown and black, around her neck casting them over her shoulder like a shall meant to keep out the cold. Her hand a pin locking them in place against her breast. Through the buzz of summer’s heat, over the stillness of a barren desert she hummed […]
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Response to Writing Prompt Sixty-Seven: The tape kept rolling , but I had nothing left to say. We set up the camera in silence, there was nothing he could say to change my mind. I sat down on the couch with my two friends/helpers. Tyler, my best friend manning the camera, held up his hand, […]
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Mary gazed out of the window at the snow whilst waiting for George to arrive. This was their second date and she wanted everything to be perfect. She had resolved not to tell anyone about him until she was sure. Mary had already confirmed that he liked lamb stew and hers was second to none. […]
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One drip of water is all it takes to drive a man insane, yet here I am, torturing my torturers by keeping my treasured wits. What they don’t know, what they’ll never know, is that past the drip of water is my skull and then my brain. This organ functions quietly as I fold my […]
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Holy rays of the peak afternoon sun blinded me as I left the final step of the train platform. It had been an abominable trip where my private box was shared with another woman who had little respect for the beauty of silence and contemplation and instead preferred to lambaste me with her familial history […]
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In response to Writing Prompt Forty-Three: We watered our horses in meadows beneath wildflower covered hillsides. Miriam grabbed up Mirry, her five-year old granddaughter, and headed across the graveyard, filled with old stands of cottonwoods and clumps of lilac bushes—a few having been planted in right angles to the plots. “It’s like a park, Mirry, […]
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