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Today is a day that I have lots of unexpected things on my mind. I’m not feeling particularly creative as much as documentative about it. There’s flour all over the kitchen because there’s no point in cleaning it up yet. I’ve yet to make the pastry for the pasties. I expected to have that done
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“Room for one more?” Shelly said with that sideways grin of hers and Wisconsin accent. The daughter of my mom’s estranged sister was at my door. I’d recognize her anywhere. She had the same stringy hair and bangs she did when she was nine, and her mom left her with my parents for the summer,
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This year I am grateful for so many things, but what swims to the top of mind are my live-in son, Ian and his girlfriend, Norris, and of course my writing group. Ian and Katelyn have gone out of their way to be nice to me. I appreciate being included in their plans and lives.
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“I don’t understand. Why do you think I don’t see you? You’re sitting right in front of me. You look lovely tonight,” Max told Emily in a hushed tone. He didn’t want to make a scene. He was afraid the waiter or the couple in the booth next to them might hear. “It’s not about
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Image generated with AI “Eudaimonia” human flourishing a contented state of being happy and healthy and prosperous… “Twelve folks are coming for Thanksgiving,” said Margaret. “Is that a blessing or a curse?” asked Floralee. They’d been best friends since their college days at Bethel Hill. Margaret limped around the kitchen, holding on to the countertop
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Floralee drifted high above the valley in her balloon of daffodil seeds. She stayed aloft with her hopes and wishes of all that she’d ever dreamed. Floralee turned over in the bed. She saw the tops of green mountains and wondered what that meant. The wind blew and thousands of white petals of dandelion dust
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Image generated with AI I don’t remember shaving my sister’s legs when she was days old. I heard that story so many times growing up that I can feel my dad’s razor in my tiny hand. He was a barber, and the razor blade was double edged. The razor, thank god, wasn’t a straight one,
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“Salty or sweet?” he asked in an online conversation. “Salty.” I replied without even thinking about it. Potato chips and dip are my absolute favorite snacks, God’s ambrosia. I prefer salt over sweet any day. I even put Chex Mix, my all time home made favorite Christmas snack over ice cream to balance it out.
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Against the Tide
Alice felt like a deer swimming against the tide in the ocean, a riptide, not realizing imminent death, or did she? Was it a conscious or subconscious attempt at suicide? She made the mistake in anger of asking a friend, “Just how much Prozac would kill me?” The shrink was at her house in half Read more
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An exerpt from the abandoned Novel
Seventh Gate 4 Will had been plotting murder in his mind for weeks, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to do it. His theatre had been closed for months because of the plague and people were screaming for blood. He cursed himself. Duncan had to die, but how? He mumbled and Read more
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The Race
The Race “If I hadn’t put off everything, I wouldn’t need to do this,” said Walter to nobody. He walked on the creaky old expansion bridge that crossed the river, it would be years before it would be repaired. Every step he took the bridge shook and sent another random thought through his brain. Sometimes Read more
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Knives or Feathers
“ ‘Whatever,’ is the wrong answer,” I said to myself, to the boys, to the cat, to the dog. Be specific in your choices. You only get to make this one once. Make it a happy one, always. Consequences come at you with knives or feathers. I much prefer feathers, the soft parts anyway. Everything Read more
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I Giggle at the Wrong Things
What makes me giggle? I giggle when I get attention I don’t understand. I feel too exposed, and I don’t like the word “vulnerable.” I’ve worked too hard not to be. I need to giggle more. It’s supposed to be good for you. I’ve heard it burns calories better than exercise. Some folks are born Read more
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Poor Ophelia
Poor Ophelia. Honor the birds that sing for you Listen for their songs Delight in their music If you can If you can Damn you, Hamlet, the twin that didn’t live ruined everything. Daddy won’t ever be right again. And there’s no room for you, is there, little girl? Mad’s triple talk. Are you out Read more
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Today is a day that I have lots of unexpected things on my mind. I’m not feeling particularly creative as much as documentative about it. There’s flour all over the kitchen because there’s no point in cleaning it up yet. I’ve yet to make the pastry for the pasties. I expected to have that done
-
“Room for one more?” Shelly said with that sideways grin of hers and Wisconsin accent. The daughter of my mom’s estranged sister was at my door. I’d recognize her anywhere. She had the same stringy hair and bangs she did when she was nine, and her mom left her with my parents for the summer,
-
This year I am grateful for so many things, but what swims to the top of mind are my live-in son, Ian and his girlfriend, Norris, and of course my writing group. Ian and Katelyn have gone out of their way to be nice to me. I appreciate being included in their plans and lives.
-
“I don’t understand. Why do you think I don’t see you? You’re sitting right in front of me. You look lovely tonight,” Max told Emily in a hushed tone. He didn’t want to make a scene. He was afraid the waiter or the couple in the booth next to them might hear. “It’s not about
-
Image generated with AI “Eudaimonia” human flourishing a contented state of being happy and healthy and prosperous… “Twelve folks are coming for Thanksgiving,” said Margaret. “Is that a blessing or a curse?” asked Floralee. They’d been best friends since their college days at Bethel Hill. Margaret limped around the kitchen, holding on to the countertop
-
Floralee drifted high above the valley in her balloon of daffodil seeds. She stayed aloft with her hopes and wishes of all that she’d ever dreamed. Floralee turned over in the bed. She saw the tops of green mountains and wondered what that meant. The wind blew and thousands of white petals of dandelion dust
-
Image generated with AI I don’t remember shaving my sister’s legs when she was days old. I heard that story so many times growing up that I can feel my dad’s razor in my tiny hand. He was a barber, and the razor blade was double edged. The razor, thank god, wasn’t a straight one,
-
“Salty or sweet?” he asked in an online conversation. “Salty.” I replied without even thinking about it. Potato chips and dip are my absolute favorite snacks, God’s ambrosia. I prefer salt over sweet any day. I even put Chex Mix, my all time home made favorite Christmas snack over ice cream to balance it out.
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Sewing Lesson
Santa brought me a baby doll for Christmas one year that had white curly hair like an old lady. She had a rubber head and blue eyes that would open and close when she sat up and lay down. Her arms and legs were rubber too, attached to a stuffed body. She was about half…
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Purple stuff
Since I started teaching I’ve undergone many changes. I still have a real honest to God chalk board in my classroom instead of the standard white board these days. The way I copy papers has changed significantly over the years. I started with the purple stuff. I would get so frustrated trying to type tests…
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Junebug’s Dinner
“I feel like my head’s in a jar underwater,” said Junebug to no one at all as she burnt the last of the fried chicken. She couldn’t fry chicken any better than she could make biscuits. Her gravy and mashed potatoes were to die for though. The whole stick of butter and heavy cream she…
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Haiku in Winter
The whittling down of a grandiloquent tale to seventeen syllables. Getting the juice from it to its purist form wrings the neck of a piece of writing so tight that all that’s left is the essence of its meaning, a haiku. Five seven five. The dear sweet poems of eternity. Pictures in pure form Whittled…
Devonne Brown 