Laura Lockridge
Stories (3)
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The Journey
A haphazard stack of poetry sits on the corner of my desk as I contemplate what to do to keep them all in one place. Even as I think this, the restless little tabby cat jumps up and knocks a sheet or two onto the floor. He looks lazily at the wrinkled sheets floating through the dusty air and seems amused as they land with a rustle onto the wooden floor. A look of complete and utter boredom rests on his whiskery face as he walks the narrow runway over to where I sit. "Entertain me!" he seems to demand as he meows a squeaky little cry. I pick up the missing poetry off the floor as I give him a scratch under his furry little chin.
By Laura Lockridge5 years ago in Journal
The Hidden Trunk
The big red For Sale sign caught my eye as I drove past the unkempt property on Daisy Avenue. The old red brick farm house looked as though it begged for new life. I imagined the stories it had written within its walls, begging to be told. I made a mental note to call the realtor on lunch as I took the next right. The idea of a fixer upper appealed to me. This just might be the kind of therapy my own soul needed and searched for. Perhaps it was fate that led me down this wrong-turn journey on that bright and sunny day in June.
By Laura Lockridge5 years ago in Criminal
