villain, likes to get them in her clutches: how to show this? Madame Mandeville paced in her office. The last student had left, and now she was here. Something rang out in her mind, about how it all was.. a…
View writingWhen my toes hit the water, I froze. But with spectators seated on the docks to both my left and my right, there was no turning back. But I was resolved to swim anyway, this being New Year's Day. I'd…
View writingLenore didn’t consider herself a beauty. At least not all the time. She found fault constantly, although she was advised not to mention her fault-finding—it was too petty and made people want to hit her. She couldn’t say, for instance,…
View writingThere is something in the smell of an old wood floored dance studio that can never be replaced. For me it is the petite madeleine of my childhood. It brings back everything, the count, the light, the resin, the barre,…
View writingMel stood in the darkest part of the alley, purposefully just out of range of the warm light that emanated from of the Victorian manor house in great rectangular beams and illuminated the soggy back garden. The damp of the…
View writingEating bagels in the morning meeting because they're provided for free. Applauding when the plane lands because everyone else is doing it. Answering "fine" when asked how they're doing because that's the scripted answer. This place, this Earthly place, is…
View writingThe sisters didn’t have much in common. One , Anna, had lost her children, her husband, and so there’s was nothing left of her life but her past. The other, Betty, the younger, although by only three years, had three…
View writingThe muscles and skin of my face relax. My senses sharpen. If darkness has a texture , I am sitting in velvet. If velvet has a sound, it is total soft silence. The dull soothing thud of no discernible sound.…
View writingThis old beast of a man, 2024, walks hunched over under his filthy ragged cloak like every mean ogre in every tall tale. Over his shoulder he carries a heavy bag in a dank greasy muslin sack. He feels, more…
View writingThere is a choice to be made here To love or to leave; to forget or to stay Who gets to make that choice? My mind or memories; my heart or scars Not I, not I
View writingWhen the day is dark And the night is upon our hearts I see the moon smiling back at me The sun waiting on the other side
View writingI love beauty. Beauty makes life worth living..... and beauty is totally subjective, so who knows what is truly beautiful? Is there a beauty absolute? Or is beauty the thing that makes us feel good? Beauty ...what a wonderful word.…
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