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The Successful Gardener
I had a notion why the deer didn’t eat his flower salad. Read more
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Chapter 4 from a really old unfinished novel: Imago, a Fictitious Memoir
No one needed or really wanted to ask about the classroom gore of the morning, letting go and moving on were what teachers had been trained to do. Read more
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Black Ties
You have to stay here. We can’t let you leave the bar, you might tell someone of our predicament. Read more
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Sister Karma
God, if you say one more weird thing about something, I’m gonna “thoat punch” you. Read more
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Novel Time
Writing a novel is the culmination of what I’ve been preaching most of my whole life. Read more
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Picturetrove
Suzanne giggled and stomped her feet at the secret she held, the power. Read more
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Flash and Trash
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
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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Intro…
“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
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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Funding
“Thank you, Ms. Parsons.” I handed the officer my drivers’ license and registration as the window rolled down. I swear I came to a full stop at the stop sign. He read my name from the license and smiled at me. I wondered if he thought I looked like a criminal. My black car was…

