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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
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In the Midnight Hour
In the midnight hour, when no one else is around or listening, the story I tell myself is that I didn’t fall off the turnip train yesterday. That the voice of Linda Ronstadt still rings true in my heart and head. I’m still the woman I was forty years ago even though I have silver… Read more
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Long ago
I’m still not used to the Fourth of July without the indignity of the sumptuous feasts my mother concocted on her birthday. They had everything but bursting fireworks against the black sky. They weren’t necessary for her celebrations. Everyone was too tired for them by dark anyway. The family would have had to replenish its… Read more
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Lasagne Night
“Do you remember when we had dinner in that old house in the woods on the farm?” Ruby asked as she took the pan of lasagne out of the oven. Alan smiled. “Yeah, you wore your prom dress and I wore my sport coat. Mom made lasagne for us. We took it to that little… Read more
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School’s Out for Summer
Image generated with AI Being home in my forest among my flowers allows me to be me. The old people said “tending violets cures melancholy.” There’s something about digging in dirt to plant my begonias and impatiens that does the same thing. It restores my soul from working all fall and winter. Every morning of… Read more
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In the Museum
It wasn’t the wonders on the museum wall that captured my attention, although there were plenty to see. I felt a pang of shame about it too. I was properly enthralled and humbled by Picasso’s blue period, Monet’s waters, and VanGogh’s wonder year. I knew sacred ground when I was on it. The rarified air…
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Against the Tide
Alice felt like a deer swimming against the tide in the ocean, a riptide, not realizing imminent death, or did she? Was it a conscious or subconscious attempt at suicide? She made the mistake in anger of asking a friend, “Just how much Prozac would kill me?” The shrink was at her house in half…
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An exerpt from the abandoned Novel
Seventh Gate 4 Will had been plotting murder in his mind for weeks, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to do it. His theatre had been closed for months because of the plague and people were screaming for blood. He cursed himself. Duncan had to die, but how? He mumbled and…
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The Race
The Race “If I hadn’t put off everything, I wouldn’t need to do this,” said Walter to nobody. He walked on the creaky old expansion bridge that crossed the river, it would be years before it would be repaired. Every step he took the bridge shook and sent another random thought through his brain. Sometimes…
Devonne Brown 