Pamela Pescosolido
Bio
Retired bookstore owner. Now writing memoir and fiction pieces, and offering Creativity for Wellness workshops.
Stories (2)
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Waiting for the Mail
A Wednesday in Late September 2 pm You step out of the front door of your small cabin which sits high in a field, woods to the back and the sides. You’ve grabbed a sweater because late September always brings a slight chill to the air, and the daily walk down the winding drive to the mailbox takes a good 10 minutes. It’s been five days since he left for California; this is the absolute earliest you could expect to hear from him. Here at the cabin, you have no cell service, no internet, and — since your car gave its last wheezy growl earlier in the year — no easy way to get into town to check emails or make phone calls. While he lived with you, you had decided you didn’t need a land-wired phone. Everyone you wanted to talk to was already in the cabin with you. You spent your time together writing: he was working on an article about the post modern art movement; you were working on fiction, on essays, on anything that flowed from your mind to the keys of your typewriter. And so when he left, you asked him to communicate the old-fashioned way, through actual physical letters, pen to paper, envelope and stamp. You’d already written to him over the weekend and slipped the envelope, along with 55 cents for postage, in the mailbox on Monday knowing that your rural mail delivery person would happily buy the stamp for you when she got back to the post office in town.
By Pamela Pescosolido5 years ago in Humans
Ghosts of Stockbridge
I was returning home very late, closer to dawn than dusk. In memory the streetlights have halos, a street lined with angels, lighting my walk home. The houses in Stockbridge are set far apart, wide and deep pockets that could contain anything in their darkness. If I were a believer in the supernatural, I could imagine monsters, ghosts, werewolves lurking, waiting to pounce, but I’m basically a practical woman. Young still, 22, and filled with possibilities, and alcohol, and a bit of cocaine, but practical nonetheless.
By Pamela Pescosolido5 years ago in Horror
