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The artists couldn’t have been more different. One used a palette knife to sculpt landscapes of heaven. He caught the flickering glint of stars and swirling clouds of gas and light with oily pigments. He imprisoned the light and wonder of Orion, caught his bow in mid-aim. His kin captured the magnificence of the heavens…
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“The lightning webbed and arced across the black sky. Thunder of a thousand sonic booms shook the whole house. It did it again and again and again. “I got it on my camera, look. It’s phenomenal. I bet it goes viral. “What do you think?” asked Sadie. “Look, here it comes again. James Weldon Johnson’s…
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I begged for a guitar for Christmas. I got down on my knees in supplication to Mom one Saturday morn when the snow was knee deep outside, I remember. That’s all she heard that year. I did every chore she gave me with glee, on the outside at least, three quarters my best instead of…
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“I love the way the full moon glistens on the snow when it’s deep and crisp and even like this, not a mark on it,” the good king said. It was St. Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day, the patron saint of stonemasons and bricklayers, the first martyr, stoned to death for blasphemy. He was also the…
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“Gilly and the Peashooters” was first published in Appalachian Fusion, Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Contemporary Appalachian Writing, Vol 27
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I don’t have to practice transcendental meditation to create masterworks, maybe I do.
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Time to Tell the Bees
Time to Tell the Bees “You’ve got to tell the bees,” said Luke. “When the beekeeper dies, someone has to tell the bees so they know someone else is coming. They were a part of her family, like the cat and dog. They’ll go crazy if you don’t tell them. It’s only polite.” “Really? Your… Read more
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Fortnite, a School Story
Fortnite Jeffrey was mad before he left his house. His stupid sister had stolen his iPad charger which meant that it was just about dead. Mrs. Wheeler’d make him charge it in her class instead of use it. If she were any kind of teacher at all, she’d let him use it while it charged,… Read more
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Norris Tales…
Norris Tales, The Adventures of an Awful House Cat . I like to call Norris Tales hyperbolic nonfiction. Norris has superpowers of good and evil. Norris, the actual cat, is sixteen years old. He’s become that friend you argue with all the time. He’s demanding. He wants cream, or attention, or no attention. He doesn’t… Read more
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Work it, Sandy
Work it, Sandy. Downpours aren’t kind. Just as predicted, water soaks right through that magazine on your head. Independence means you make the choice to run from here to the door in the rain whether your mom says you can or not. You still get wet. It’s part of life’s journey. The big stuff, you… Read more
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Holiday Head Webs
Holiday Head Webs I declare my independence from the tyranny of head webs, stuff that wakes me…dumb stuff. There have been a bazillion books written about incidents and accidents that leave deep wounds that still bleed. I was supposed to watch my brother at my sister’s cheerleader practice. He was two, I was ten, she… Read more
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The artists couldn’t have been more different. One used a palette knife to sculpt landscapes of heaven. He caught the flickering glint of stars and swirling clouds of gas and light with oily pigments. He imprisoned the light and wonder of Orion, caught his bow in mid-aim. His kin captured the magnificence of the heavens…
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“The lightning webbed and arced across the black sky. Thunder of a thousand sonic booms shook the whole house. It did it again and again and again. “I got it on my camera, look. It’s phenomenal. I bet it goes viral. “What do you think?” asked Sadie. “Look, here it comes again. James Weldon Johnson’s…
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I begged for a guitar for Christmas. I got down on my knees in supplication to Mom one Saturday morn when the snow was knee deep outside, I remember. That’s all she heard that year. I did every chore she gave me with glee, on the outside at least, three quarters my best instead of…
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“I love the way the full moon glistens on the snow when it’s deep and crisp and even like this, not a mark on it,” the good king said. It was St. Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day, the patron saint of stonemasons and bricklayers, the first martyr, stoned to death for blasphemy. He was also the…
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“Gilly and the Peashooters” was first published in Appalachian Fusion, Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Contemporary Appalachian Writing, Vol 27
-
I don’t have to practice transcendental meditation to create masterworks, maybe I do.
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Wet Produce
Image generated with AI. Grocery shopping is a necessary evil. I don’t like shopping in the first place, and spending an exorbitant amount of money on sustenance seems like a sin. Life is so expensive, it doesn’t need to be so annoying to get the things I need and want. Ordering groceries online for pickup…
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Word Wednesday: Whalesong from “chord, note, Baltic, crowd, bronze, odor”
AI generated image. “I never thought I’d be standing on the deck of a cruise ship in the middle of the Baltic sea listening to whale songs, The notes and chords from their throats are stuff I only dreamed about,” Madeline watched the fog move over the waves. The famous clicks and moans of the…
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Hateful Liberation
Mom and Dad were the loves of each other’s lives. They found each other during summers when Mom went to Clay county to visit her grandparents. Their love for each other never changed. Even after they divorced thirty-two years later after dad met and had an affair with CH, the most despicable woman I’d ever…
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The Trap
A groundhog attacked the lily in the flower bed in the front of the house. For three years the lily had grown to the size of a bushel basket and was covered in buds. The varmint didn’t eat the leaves. Oh no. It waited until the buds were ripe and ready to burst into the…
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Tincher’s Store
AI generated image. Tincher’s Store and Post Office was the train station once. It stood not a hundred feet from the railroad tracks, and its wide wooden porch doubled as a bus stop in the pouring rain. We had no idea how long ago it stopped being a train station, it was half a mile…
Devonne Brown 