-
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
-
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
-
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
-
This Thanksgiving Dinner
I don’t care for turkey, besides, it’s heavy and hard to handle. This year, because I’m not paying two hundred dollars for beef, I’m making pork tenderloin Wellington and smoked turkey leg Wellington experiments. If they go well, I’ll do them again for Christmas. I have one boy home for Thanksgiving, so he’ll be my Read more
-
Eutony
Eutony: n. The pleasantness of a word’s sound.Your words arethe sound of kindness.The quiet of falling leavesflutter and whirl,Orange and red ride the wind and glide to the ground.They have the shove of love behind each one.bright yellow wingedyet crimson when passed under the shade of the othereach one part of your poem.The sound you Read more
-
When Life Gets Weird
I defer to Shakespeare again.All women in their time play all the parts.When time’s struggle hacks away at the core of motherhood, she bloomsSlices of her incognito souls fall around her.She’s protected her child with her promises Surefooted he stands on her love and covers his head, With the hat of awareness.The recognition thatHer powerful Read more
-
Cindora
“What was wrong with the last gentleman caller? He was taller than you and wore a suit of the finest cut. He didn;t even grease his hair like you said you hated.” Cindora’s father, Mr. Weston poured another bourbon in disgust and slumped in his chair. His daughter made him want to pull hanks of Read more
-
The Haunted School
One morning my classroom was unlocked and its door was open, the doorstop jammed tight to hold it open. Everyone else’s in the Penthouse, that’s what we called the third floor of West Side Middle School, was propped open too. It was weird because I always arrived an hour earlier than everyone else and their Read more
-
Crop Circles
The aliens are here. How do you know? I saw the crop circles. Don’t be stupid. There are no such thing as crop circles. Yes there are. It’s where their mothership lands and makes a funky pattern on the ground. See? No. Jeb went out last night with his tractor and did that so the Read more
-
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
-
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
-
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
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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 