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If I’m alive… In twenty years, If I’m still alive I hope to hell I finally graduated from school. Kids have always liked me, not the other way round. This is the last twenty. Fix it. Admit it, I’m sick of kids. I’ll publish the definitive legend of how the Scottish play got its curse
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“Out, out brief candle,” I said. “Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six. “Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” “Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said. “It was a
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Adult Children A nurse in the doctor’s office ran me out of the room when the twins got their vaccinations to start school. They started crying the minute Dr. Brick said, “You know I would never do anything that would hurt without telling you.” They got five shots. Two in one leg, three in the
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When Mom died, I became keeper of the jewelry box. I dole out the contents to the various family members before I die. It’s not the standard little white padded jewelry box with the little gold lock and filigree. It’s the Chrysler Building of all jewelry boxes. Its contents are extraordinary. The most valuable commercial
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Famous Diner I didn’t think Shakespeare would show up for dinner, not the real one anyway. He’d been dead for four hundred and six years. My research for a novel featuring the bard had me making a basic English roast dinner, including a bad Yorkshire pudding. Those things are tricky. When I make them, they
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“It’s jacked up. Nobody consulted me about a standard damned poodle coming into this house. Life was just fine. It’s jacked up as shit,” said Norris. He stomped in a circle and thumped his tail before he could compose himself to continue. He was too damned mad. Norris was without words. “This had better not
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The Last Sunday of Summer Today is the last Sunday of summer. I go back to school tomorrow. A whole new ride starts. I didn’t think about it until yesterday. God, I hate giving up summer. I became a writer this summer. Being a writer gives you permission to stay home and write. In fact,
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All gardens need a boy.
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Soccer Mom “When someone makes a goal, click this button and record the time here and the kid’s number here,” said Linda, the coach. She was pointing to two columns on an Excel Spreadsheet on one of those coach’s clipboards with the secret compartments. “They’re six, Linda, why do we need a spreadsheet?” I think
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Solace
Image generated with AI. In the old stories, when life went sideways, the princess had to go to the haunted forest to find the oracle. Diane thought she might as well give it a shot. It was a hundred degrees outside. The creek was ankle deep, the shade dappled and dark. She’d start looking here. Read more
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Mama’s Revenge
Image generated with AI. “Did I miss a message?” She knew her son’s intentions, she just thought he knew better, she didn’t want to get into a sniping match, so she shut up. Some things were better left unsaid. Mama didn’t like it when her boy kept her car out all night without asking. “I Read more
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Potato Salad
Image generated with AI When I go outside, summer smells like rain and cut grass. If I sit on my rocking chair on the back porch, I smell the deep green dirt and dead leaves of forest earth supporting my flowers. The deadfall of the yard, dotted with bright pink begonias and orange, fuchsia, and Read more
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Promise and Truth
Image generated with AI Alice Krudworthy gave up on lying a long time ago. She quit making up shit, but would often omit certain details to bend the thinking of whomever she was talking to. “What did you have for dinner?” Someone would ask innocuously. “Salad, with apples, chickpeas, avocados, tomatoes, and crab. I made Read more
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Fall, Flail, or Fly?
Photo by Tasha Marie To be or not to be. fall, flail, or fly? Ribs tight and hard, stomach in knots. I don’t even see the setting sun, there are no colors left in the grey of dusk. The ocean laps and pounds the jutting rock on which I stand. I pull my hair to Read more
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If I’m alive… In twenty years, If I’m still alive I hope to hell I finally graduated from school. Kids have always liked me, not the other way round. This is the last twenty. Fix it. Admit it, I’m sick of kids. I’ll publish the definitive legend of how the Scottish play got its curse
-
“Out, out brief candle,” I said. “Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six. “Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” “Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said. “It was a
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Adult Children A nurse in the doctor’s office ran me out of the room when the twins got their vaccinations to start school. They started crying the minute Dr. Brick said, “You know I would never do anything that would hurt without telling you.” They got five shots. Two in one leg, three in the
-
When Mom died, I became keeper of the jewelry box. I dole out the contents to the various family members before I die. It’s not the standard little white padded jewelry box with the little gold lock and filigree. It’s the Chrysler Building of all jewelry boxes. Its contents are extraordinary. The most valuable commercial
-
Famous Diner I didn’t think Shakespeare would show up for dinner, not the real one anyway. He’d been dead for four hundred and six years. My research for a novel featuring the bard had me making a basic English roast dinner, including a bad Yorkshire pudding. Those things are tricky. When I make them, they
-
“It’s jacked up. Nobody consulted me about a standard damned poodle coming into this house. Life was just fine. It’s jacked up as shit,” said Norris. He stomped in a circle and thumped his tail before he could compose himself to continue. He was too damned mad. Norris was without words. “This had better not
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The Last Sunday of Summer Today is the last Sunday of summer. I go back to school tomorrow. A whole new ride starts. I didn’t think about it until yesterday. God, I hate giving up summer. I became a writer this summer. Being a writer gives you permission to stay home and write. In fact,
-
All gardens need a boy.
-
Soccer Mom “When someone makes a goal, click this button and record the time here and the kid’s number here,” said Linda, the coach. She was pointing to two columns on an Excel Spreadsheet on one of those coach’s clipboards with the secret compartments. “They’re six, Linda, why do we need a spreadsheet?” I think
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The Mystery in the Cook Book
I pulled the book off the shelves that looked most promising for a real recipe for rough puff pastry. The Great British Baking Show offered more inspiration than information, and Wolfgang Puck’s book looked more promising than most on the St. Albans library shelves. The book held that exquisite new book smell to it, and…
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Teachers’ Kids
“Out, out brief candle,” I said. “Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six. “Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” “Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said. “It was a…
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Black Licorice
“Which house shall we hit next, the brick one or that long white one with just the porch light on?” The Bunny Sisters collaborated. Trick or Treat was a serious matter. It had to be done in the most efficient and interesting of ways. Their costumes were fashioned of dresses from the thirties and their…
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An Unlikely Account of Lincoln’s Tophat
Not many people knew of Mercucio Sibedow, haberdasher to the presidency. Mercucio grew up south of the Mason Dixon line. He learned from his daddy how to make hats and ties, leather gloves, fashion mens finishing touches. You’d think that finishing touches were woman’s work, but that would be absolutely not true. In the world…
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How to hide a genius
As a society, we paint the most malformed picture we can grumble about. We tangle our thoughts in knots of despair so tight we can’t move from one group to the next without dire consequences. Once you move, there’s no going back, especially if you’ve moved “down.” Shunning is done with silent delight. Open, honest,…
Devonne Brown 