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When I open my mouth, I’m shocked that I hear my mother. I hear her voice, her words, but more than that, her attitude. I hear her cadence in my speech and the philosophy I bucked as a child and an adult. She drove me crazy with her notions of what I should and should
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Mothers run a desperate zoo. That’s why we plant flowers. I have a flat and a half of red, fuschia, and orange impatiens on my back porch waiting to dot the ground with their hues. My mom planted flowers, her mom planted flowers, and that’s how she died, weeding her Touch-Me-Nots. Grounds beautification 101, we
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“In those days, in those distant days, in those ancient nights stories were told before there were things to tell stories about, Mom,” Sugar said over her shoulder as she walked out the door and slammed it. “I’m sick of your stories, you tell stories like all the damn time like I’m supposed to learn
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Falling no end in sightfrom heaven?to heaven?to Earth?to ocean?Where do we go when we drift across the skysomeone tell mesomeone sayI don’t want to be afraid to fallmaybe in love.
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Don’t know when I’ve been so very let downMy lips pressed tight right into a grimaceShould have known, didn’t want to show the frownFrustrated shake of the head, a red face.Tears, a bitter smile, a heavier sigh, I should have known better than to trust youSag against the wall, attempting to hideHands that hang, lifeless,
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House at Dusk, Edward Hopper I stumbled out of the mansion’s patio door, the band blared jazz, and I needed air, the whole house panted with people. My head was hot and my hair stuck to my neck from the prickly head, My ears rang from music, laughter, and the jumbled jargon of the rich
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I love to invoke the muses, the proper Pagan practice. The joyful noise of the Canadian Brass playing the Vespers of the Blessed Virgin or Rod Stewart singing Up on the Roof, either one can invoke Terpsichore, the muse of Music. She’ll then ramp up your event with energy, grace, and lots of class. The
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“Don’t tell Mom,” I said. “She’s pregnant.” he said right in front of Mom. He pointed to me. “He did that on purpose too. If he had kept his mouth shut you wouldn’t be here. Neither one of you would. Your dad saved your lives. You can give him credit for that.” If he had
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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 Read more
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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 Read more
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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 Read more
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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 Read more
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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, Read more
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Familiar Strangers
“Do I know you?” they both asked simultaneously, then laughed. Susan stepped backwards two steps. That laugh of his was more familiar than his face and all the warmth and funny drained out of it. She didn’t like the way she felt at all. She held a smile on her face. Maybe it wasn’t him. Read more
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When I open my mouth, I’m shocked that I hear my mother. I hear her voice, her words, but more than that, her attitude. I hear her cadence in my speech and the philosophy I bucked as a child and an adult. She drove me crazy with her notions of what I should and should
-
Mothers run a desperate zoo. That’s why we plant flowers. I have a flat and a half of red, fuschia, and orange impatiens on my back porch waiting to dot the ground with their hues. My mom planted flowers, her mom planted flowers, and that’s how she died, weeding her Touch-Me-Nots. Grounds beautification 101, we
-
“In those days, in those distant days, in those ancient nights stories were told before there were things to tell stories about, Mom,” Sugar said over her shoulder as she walked out the door and slammed it. “I’m sick of your stories, you tell stories like all the damn time like I’m supposed to learn
-
Falling no end in sightfrom heaven?to heaven?to Earth?to ocean?Where do we go when we drift across the skysomeone tell mesomeone sayI don’t want to be afraid to fallmaybe in love.
-
Don’t know when I’ve been so very let downMy lips pressed tight right into a grimaceShould have known, didn’t want to show the frownFrustrated shake of the head, a red face.Tears, a bitter smile, a heavier sigh, I should have known better than to trust youSag against the wall, attempting to hideHands that hang, lifeless,
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House at Dusk, Edward Hopper I stumbled out of the mansion’s patio door, the band blared jazz, and I needed air, the whole house panted with people. My head was hot and my hair stuck to my neck from the prickly head, My ears rang from music, laughter, and the jumbled jargon of the rich
-
I love to invoke the muses, the proper Pagan practice. The joyful noise of the Canadian Brass playing the Vespers of the Blessed Virgin or Rod Stewart singing Up on the Roof, either one can invoke Terpsichore, the muse of Music. She’ll then ramp up your event with energy, grace, and lots of class. The
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“Don’t tell Mom,” I said. “She’s pregnant.” he said right in front of Mom. He pointed to me. “He did that on purpose too. If he had kept his mouth shut you wouldn’t be here. Neither one of you would. Your dad saved your lives. You can give him credit for that.” If he had
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School Sense
“God almighty, Mr. Cooper’s room smells like disinfected death again. We’re either dissecting fetal pigs or cats,” said Beth. “My money’s on frogs,” said Tim, he paused, “Remember when Jasmine had that meltdown the time he surprised us with the cats?” Beth laughed. “I remember that day. The whole class was shocked. I wasn’t pleased,…
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Selling Cars
Celia made a decent living as the head sales person at the Mercedes dealership downtown. She’d just come from a dinner party at Jolene’s, her best friend from high school, where there were doctors, lawyers, and teachers in an exquisite home in the most elite neighborhood. Jolene had gone to college, earned a teaching degree,…
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Fugitive
Image generated with AI. As bad as I hated him, I was losing my mind with worry. I thought I would kill him when he got out at two in the morning and ran across the patio. Instead of stopping, like he usually did, he ran under the fence and disappeared into the night, really…
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Mom’s Gravy
Image generated with AI. The house smelled like breakfast. The sausage left a little grease in the pan, but it was pungent and spicy enough to make gravy. Mom added a little butter and the sweet nutty smell peppered the air, then she mixed in flour, enough to soak up the grease and butter to…
Devonne Brown 