W is For Writing

This was written in January 2021 for a 24-hour microfiction contest - the story needed to be 250 words or less and the genre, action, and keyword were randomly assigned: "Romantic comedy, making a bed, shine"

          Three silent figures moved slowly down the street in unison.   One was a middle-aged man, tall and gaunt with a threadbare black overcoat.   He was carrying two large suitcases – one under each arm.   Another was a squat, plump woman in an orchid cape.   She had her wiry gray hair arranged into a tidy bun.   She had a small valise in one hand and held the hand of a medium-sized girl in the other.   The girl had chestnut-colored curls pinned together at the nape of her neck.   She wore a smart navy overcoat and black leather boots with her traveling dress.   She also wore a frown.

You can go through life asleep sometimes, blissfully unconscious of reality.

Harriet sat quietly on the dock, dangling her toes in the cool, murky water.

Drew was a contradiction of a man. On the outside, he was all darkness and leather machismo.

This story was written for an NPR 3 minute story contest. The idea was to write a story that could be read on air in 3 minutes or less. It was never submitted.

This story was written for submission to an anthology of stories that all had to be written based on the line "No Visitors Beyond This Point". It was not selected for inclusion.

I The heavy rain of the previous week had softened the earth beside the road considerably.

pull drag kick scream freeze

if i could wave a wand

I want to be like a reptile

We are told –

The curve of your face calls 

Forever you have been the external extension of my heart

It’s hard to imagine something you have never experienced as being something tangible, real

She’s like a heat-seeking missile

Harried fretful days

Throw away all doubt

The dance (tentative at first)

When I was small, you guided me through the woods