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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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“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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“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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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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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,
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“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.
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***Warning! Trigger warnings. Contains thoughts of suicide and mental illness. Possible School Shootings. “Do suicide hotlines keep a record of who calls when and why?” Bob talked suicide over with the shrink at his last appointment. “Probably,” she was taking fast notes on the computer as well as on the notepad beside her. Her soda
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Elouise, tall and elegant, shrank to five foot nothing by the time she died at seventy-seven. Her youngest daughter, Dagmar, stayed all night with her the day before she died and dreamed of Grandma, Elouise’s mom, that night. She called me that morning to tell me all about it. “I dreamed about Grandma last night,”
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The sequel to Norris Tales is written, twenty-five thousand, one hundred nine words. Norris Lives. It’s a book of short stories and vignettes about Norris, the seventeen year old cat that I’ve fought and lived with for a long time. Hey, this is a big deal. I have two more big deals to go, formatting
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“What the fuck? It’s three a.m. and my kitchen is as nasty now as it was when I fried chicken at noon today,” thought Tess. Something had woken her up out of a sound sleep. Some thump. “What the fuck?” She found the fuck passed out on the couch in the living room. How dare
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Post New Year’s Day Analysis
“Aren’t you supposed to party with pretty plates and finger foods on New Year’s day?” “You’re supposed to put out all these pretty snacks and have your friends over and drink champagne and talk about all the disappointment you got at Christmas.” “You’re supposed to be putting away the Christmas tree, running the sweeper, doing Read more
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January 1, Writing Prompt
Jan 1 Writing Prompt I didn’t make this one up. “What chances in my life did I let go or didn’t take?” This is the stuff that four a.m. monologues are made of. I laugh in the face of such insolence, ha. Should we include the stupid alternative choices I made as well? I should Read more
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New Year’s Resolutions
Don’t make any, They have no power, no grip That’s not exactly true You always remember them, no matter what you do. It’s a boundary thing. Put your head down and go face first into the maelstrom, get it over with Like shots, jabs, injections When I was in my forty-fives, I swan dove into Read more
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Karma Whispers
God, if you say one more weird thing about something, You’ll get punched. Read more
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Christmas Eve Morning
“Hell, Stan, there are too many for a list?” Stan shook his head no, and whistled low. Greg oozed frustration. “Were you ever sure about anything?” “ I swear we’re here.” Stan jumped up and dunked on Greg. Steve dunked on both of them, then got serious. “We’ll never get a list like this right,” Read more
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A Cat at the Museum
“I know what “Azure” means, why wouldn’t I know what happiness and tranquility mean? Just because you’re my Papa doesn’t mean you’re smart or anything.” Read more
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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
-
“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
-
“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
-
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
-
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,
-
“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.
-
***Warning! Trigger warnings. Contains thoughts of suicide and mental illness. Possible School Shootings. “Do suicide hotlines keep a record of who calls when and why?” Bob talked suicide over with the shrink at his last appointment. “Probably,” she was taking fast notes on the computer as well as on the notepad beside her. Her soda
-
Elouise, tall and elegant, shrank to five foot nothing by the time she died at seventy-seven. Her youngest daughter, Dagmar, stayed all night with her the day before she died and dreamed of Grandma, Elouise’s mom, that night. She called me that morning to tell me all about it. “I dreamed about Grandma last night,”
-
The sequel to Norris Tales is written, twenty-five thousand, one hundred nine words. Norris Lives. It’s a book of short stories and vignettes about Norris, the seventeen year old cat that I’ve fought and lived with for a long time. Hey, this is a big deal. I have two more big deals to go, formatting
-
“What the fuck? It’s three a.m. and my kitchen is as nasty now as it was when I fried chicken at noon today,” thought Tess. Something had woken her up out of a sound sleep. Some thump. “What the fuck?” She found the fuck passed out on the couch in the living room. How dare
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Free Falling
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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Broken Promises
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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Rage Against the Night
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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Invocation
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.
“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…
Devonne Brown 