Joyce Sherry
Bio
Storytelling is an act of love.
Achievements (1)
Stories (8)
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Finding Pope at the Post Office
The woman’s silver hair sparkles in the watery light of an early November afternoon. It catches my eye before I notice anything else: the youthful face framed by her hair, the cups of coffee and take-out pastry bags she juggles. I watch her only because I’m waiting for my turn to post a package and buy a sheet of forever stamps.
By Joyce Sherryabout a year ago in Psyche
I'm Only Human. Top Story - August 2024. Content Warning.
“Sister,” wheezed the faceless boy. Between the mass of gauze swathing his head and the moans of boys lying in rows throughout the tent, I almost didn’t hear him. I crouched next to his cot and took his hand.
By Joyce Sherryabout a year ago in Fiction
How Helen Katasko Lost Her Job. First Place in L*pogram Challenge. Content Warning.
Helen gazed at the featureless expanse around her. Only the vastness of saltwater unbroken by a low-slung key, a far-off peak, a focsle, whale spout, or god damn seagull. Not even a cloud.
By Joyce Sherryabout a year ago in Fiction
The World My Father Gave Me
I fell in love for the first time at my grade school carnival. I was five years old. I can’t imagine why it took me till the end of the day to see her, even to register that she was there. Maybe I was too absorbed in the penny candy, those bookmark-sized strips of waxed paper with little dots of colored sugar methodically placed along the edges. Or maybe I was making spin-art, squeezing brightly colored tempera paint onto a revolving piece of paper to discover what surprising and beautiful patterns might emerge.
By Joyce Sherry4 years ago in Families
Think of Summer Days Again
One particular Fourth of July, like every fourth of July, the entire clan was descending on our house. Grandma, a powdered and perfumed version of William Tecumseh Sherman whose pats on the back stung for a good five minutes. Grandpa, who slid into a room like a shadow, settled in a chair and was happiest when everyone forgot he was there, just as long as he had a good view of the yard and the birds and any chipmunks that might venture forth. Dad’s sisters and brother and their families: calm, capable, brilliant Marion; dramatic Phyllis, the rule-breaker; Charlie, the baby, who looked up to his older brother and secretly feared he would never measure up. Great aunts and uncles, cousins and second cousins, some older folks whose connection to the family was so impenetrable that we gave up trying to figure it out and just enjoyed their company. With girlfriends, boyfriends, new partners, visiting students there might be twenty people coming to the house or there might be forty. This family carnival meant that summer was truly here, sticky, sweaty, breath-robbing summer in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
By Joyce Sherry4 years ago in Feast
And So It Begins
Lights up: The stage is empty except for a young WOMAN sitting cross-legged on the floor. She casually checks out her surroundings, not expecting to see anything special. She performs a stretch or two, just to pass the time, looks at her nails, sighs heavily. We hear a brief ruckus offstage, then a young MAN bursts onstage. He is exhausted, but elated. At the moment of his entrance, the WOMAN leaps to her feet, horrified.
By Joyce Sherry4 years ago in Humans
