Selaine Henriksen
Bio
With an eclectic interest in reading and writing, I'm waiting to win the lottery. In the meantime, still scribbling away.
Books can be found at Amazon, Smashwords, and Audible.
Stories (7)
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'Til Death Do Us Part
Friendship, like marriage, is a funny thing. You never know what might happen. My friendship with Charlotte was strong, as friendships formed through the rigors of caring for infants are. Our sons were the same age, give or take a few weeks, and Charlotte and I came to know just about everything there was to know about each other as at first we sat nursing our babies, then while sitting in a pile of toys designed to stimulate and educate, then while running after toddlers who seemed hell-bent on doing themselves, or each other, in. And now, with the boys aged three, at last we could sit, have a coffee and chat at the kitchen table while the boys played and fought and played again in the basement.
By Selaine Henriksen2 years ago in Viva
A Prescription for Murder
A Prescription for Murder Mom was really mad. She'd grounded me for two weeks because of the whole “could have been hurt” thing. She wanted to ground Gran too but, hah, as if. And she still wouldn't let me get a dog, not even one as cute as the one in the painting I'd found. She told me it was a Papillon, which is French for butterfly. Because of the dog's ears, I guess.
By Selaine Henriksen2 years ago in Fiction
Among the Women
Among the Women "Over the hills and through the woods, to Nana's house we go. . ." "Shush now. We're here." And there it is, Nana's house. Little and white with flowers, pretty flowers, spilling everywhere, like they grow from the inside to the outside.
By Selaine Henriksen2 years ago in Fiction
No Name
No Name The pig truck swayed in the lane in front of me, tires careening close to the gravel edge of the road and swaying back to the dotted white line. I'd already driven alongside the truck, checking for pigs. Sure enough, I'd seen the thick pink skin sticking out, cut and bleeding, as it chafed against the sharp metal air holes. All the little piggies shoved in, open wound to open wound. Their pain, their fear, roiled my stomach. Watching the wheels of the truck veer right and left didn't help. I forced my eyes away from the spinning wheels, checked in the mirror of the nondescript Ford Focus I'd pinched. The blond wig was hot and made my head itch.
By Selaine Henriksen2 years ago in Viva
Sacrificial Lamb
SACRIFICIAL LAMB The late afternoon sun worked its way through the filthy attic window and drifted lazily down onto the stack of boxes that loomed in front of me, silently challenging me to get to work. One more chore to check off on the never-ending list. The funeral arrangements, check, flowers, check, notified family, friends...I didn't know my mother's friends and hadn't been about to search her cluttered desk for an address book. That would be too organized for my mother. She likely kept phone numbers on bits of paper, scattered amongst other bits of paper. My sister, Carole, wasn't inclined to search either, so we'd put a notice in the paper, check. Met with the lawyer about her will, check, canceled credit cards, check, and bank accounts, check. Every one item spawned two more, it seemed. And now we were faced with her house; a lifetime of stuff we'd have to pick through and decide what was garbage and what not, check.
By Selaine Henriksen2 years ago in Viva
