-
The artists couldn’t have been more different. One used a palette knife to sculpt landscapes of heaven. He caught the flickering glint of stars and swirling clouds of gas and light with oily pigments. He imprisoned the light and wonder of Orion, caught his bow in mid-aim. His kin captured the magnificence of the heavens
-
“The lightning webbed and arced across the black sky. Thunder of a thousand sonic booms shook the whole house. It did it again and again and again. “I got it on my camera, look. It’s phenomenal. I bet it goes viral. “What do you think?” asked Sadie. “Look, here it comes again. James Weldon Johnson’s
-
I begged for a guitar for Christmas. I got down on my knees in supplication to Mom one Saturday morn when the snow was knee deep outside, I remember. That’s all she heard that year. I did every chore she gave me with glee, on the outside at least, three quarters my best instead of
-
“I love the way the full moon glistens on the snow when it’s deep and crisp and even like this, not a mark on it,” the good king said. It was St. Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day, the patron saint of stonemasons and bricklayers, the first martyr, stoned to death for blasphemy. He was also the
-
“Gilly and the Peashooters” was first published in Appalachian Fusion, Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Contemporary Appalachian Writing, Vol 27
-
I don’t have to practice transcendental meditation to create masterworks, maybe I do.
-
Her worst nightmare had come true. Diane was due back to assume command of operations in two weeks after being out for twelve for surgery. Her employees were happier without her. People got along better, things ran smoother, life was more relaxed. There were fewer feuds among staff, fewer emergencies popped up, things were just
-
Garden Luncheon
Margaret took off her gardening gloves and surveyed her garden. The flowers were perfect. Never had her blooms been bigger or brighter than they were this summer. She took out her phone to take a picture. The blues, oranges, and reds were just phenomenal. She picked a blue one and took it into the house Read more
-
Janet and Miranda Have Lunch
Artist unknown. “Everything on this menu must have at least ten thousand calories,” Miranda said as she picked up her Chardonnay. Janet thought by the looks of her, she could use ten thousand calories. She could get a salad or a steak anywhere. But they were in an exquisite Indian restaurant that served the best Read more
-
Climbing the Rope
Image generated with AI. Emmy fumed. She’d been struggling to climb that rope for three weeks and still hadn’t made it two feet off the ground. Her face was red, her hands burned, her thighs chafed. She headed to the dreaded locker room to change, so she could hear more jeers from the cheer leaders Read more
-
Relaxation Prison
One could call my home a relaxation prison. I don’t go anywhere or do anything of consequence to anyone but me. I plant and water flowers and watch them flourish along forest paths. I write in solitude. I prepare and eat my meals in solitude. I do everything alone. My warden, Norris, demands his cream. Read more
-
The artists couldn’t have been more different. One used a palette knife to sculpt landscapes of heaven. He caught the flickering glint of stars and swirling clouds of gas and light with oily pigments. He imprisoned the light and wonder of Orion, caught his bow in mid-aim. His kin captured the magnificence of the heavens
-
“The lightning webbed and arced across the black sky. Thunder of a thousand sonic booms shook the whole house. It did it again and again and again. “I got it on my camera, look. It’s phenomenal. I bet it goes viral. “What do you think?” asked Sadie. “Look, here it comes again. James Weldon Johnson’s
-
I begged for a guitar for Christmas. I got down on my knees in supplication to Mom one Saturday morn when the snow was knee deep outside, I remember. That’s all she heard that year. I did every chore she gave me with glee, on the outside at least, three quarters my best instead of
-
“I love the way the full moon glistens on the snow when it’s deep and crisp and even like this, not a mark on it,” the good king said. It was St. Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day, the patron saint of stonemasons and bricklayers, the first martyr, stoned to death for blasphemy. He was also the
-
“Gilly and the Peashooters” was first published in Appalachian Fusion, Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Contemporary Appalachian Writing, Vol 27
-
I don’t have to practice transcendental meditation to create masterworks, maybe I do.
-
Her worst nightmare had come true. Diane was due back to assume command of operations in two weeks after being out for twelve for surgery. Her employees were happier without her. People got along better, things ran smoother, life was more relaxed. There were fewer feuds among staff, fewer emergencies popped up, things were just
-
Word Wednesday: Whalesong from “chord, note, Baltic, crowd, bronze, odor”
AI generated image. “I never thought I’d be standing on the deck of a cruise ship in the middle of the Baltic sea listening to whale songs, The notes and chords from their throats are stuff I only dreamed about,” Madeline watched the fog move over the waves. The famous clicks and moans of the…
-
Hateful Liberation
Mom and Dad were the loves of each other’s lives. They found each other during summers when Mom went to Clay county to visit her grandparents. Their love for each other never changed. Even after they divorced thirty-two years later after dad met and had an affair with CH, the most despicable woman I’d ever…
-
The Trap
A groundhog attacked the lily in the flower bed in the front of the house. For three years the lily had grown to the size of a bushel basket and was covered in buds. The varmint didn’t eat the leaves. Oh no. It waited until the buds were ripe and ready to burst into the…
-
Tincher’s Store
AI generated image. Tincher’s Store and Post Office was the train station once. It stood not a hundred feet from the railroad tracks, and its wide wooden porch doubled as a bus stop in the pouring rain. We had no idea how long ago it stopped being a train station, it was half a mile…
-
Anxiety be damned
“No amount of anxiety makes any difference to anything that is going to happen,” said Alan Watts from the podium, his closing remarks. He got a standing ovation. I was pissed. I didn’t disagree with him, but I was pissed. I hate having reality thrown up in my face. My anxiety is often debilitating. That’s…
Devonne Brown 