It was only a wisp,” Marnie said. “But I felt it.” “A wisp,” her husband said. He’d repeated her word, but his glance was skeptical. “Maybe you could explain further.” “I’m not sure I can.” She poured them both a…
View writingMuch to say about the word "wisp".....short for "whisper" immediately comes to mind...which brings further to mind the idea that if you want to get someone's attention, even the attention of an entire audience, don't yell....whisper. Make THEM come to…
View writing"This is an outrage, Fleming, and I shall be taking my custom elsewhere in future!" Ana sat on the cushioned bench by the window of Fleming's Inn listening as the merchant hired to bring her to the capital berated the…
View writingI've never been a strong history scholar. When I've read about people from times before the 1980s, they have seemed unrelatable, not real. Give me a movie with a bellbottom jean, and I'm out. Born in 1974, I was too…
View writingI run away from home almost every day. Well, I trot or walk away from home. I don't run. I began a new work schedule a week ago, and now I log in for work at 1:00 pm instead of…
View writingWhen my husband and I got married, many years ago, I remember feeling different in a specific way, different and better. I felt like I finally had a home. I left my mother’s house when I was seventeen to spread…
View writingI was told I walked in my sleep when I was young. I remember it vaguely, watching my seven-year-old self, a teddy monkey under one armpit, walking across the living room where my father sat reading the newspaper until three…
View writingIt was raining yet again when she parted the yellowing curtains. At least her outfit would be easy to assemble, same as the last 10 days. No warning bells would be set to ringing in the minds of either of…
View writingWhen I was in my 20's I was a young mom raising a son alone. Life was hard back then. Although I worked a full-time job and often did typing projects on the side for extra money, there was never…
View writingI write to run away from home.....i write to make my life into something i can bear, rather than face the truth which is we all die and death is an impossible thing to actually face....and yet we must inevitably…
View writingShe thought she knew the way. She’d thought about it, planned it in her head, even, when Joe was driving them to town, noted signs that she could navigate by—the row of hedges, the yellow sign with a triangle in…
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