Sharon Barnes
Bio
Hails from Mississippi , but hanging out in North Carolina. Also, a professional nurse who can't let go of wanting to be a writer.
Stories (6)
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Route 49
Route 49 By Sharon McGee About 10 miles from the main road into Sharkey County, deep in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, is where Route 49 connects. Undeniably, east and west of this 60-mile stretch is a nature lover’s paradise. Pictures of fertile fields, catfish-filled lakes and plush landscapes are often plastered on many of the state’s tourism brochures, but like most brochures, it’s the ugly that gets left out. The “ugly” in this case was the bizarre feud that existed between the residents east and west of Route 49.
By Sharon Barnes4 years ago in Fiction
Bub and Me
Resist the Devil and he will flee from you, but if you ignore him, he’ll just sit on your couch, in the middle of the night, watching you make frequent trips to the bathroom. It was after that fourth trip and the faint, incessant snickering in the dark, along with the pretend sounds of running water that really got on my last nerve (Yes, the Devil is very petty). Driven now more by pure irritability than courage, I angrily flipped the light switch on, hoping that 60 watts would be enough to melt him like a witch in Oz.
By Sharon Barnes4 years ago in Fiction
Apple
Miranda had been stalking Norman for months, friending and following under an alias. Someday, when they were married, she hoped that this little desperate detail would never surface, not even after their 25th Anniversary, when they’d be too tipsy from toasting with glasses too tall for tequila-not Merlot. Norman was a tequila man, but Miranda had already granted him absolution for this. After all, tonight was only the first date. She’d have plenty of time to introduce him to the finer libations in life, but, once again,she was veering from the script.
By Sharon Barnes4 years ago in Fiction
Blood Money
Exzentrius Mead was a man who intentionally avoided giving to others. His good fortune had never stirred his curiosity for goodwill. To him, poor circumstances simply related weakness, and deserved neither empathy nor vindication. Maggie had discerned all this of her father from their first and only encounter. She was sixteen then, and despite the tremor in her mother’s voice-when she spoke of him-and the cryptic warnings to keep away from the man, Maggie’s fears and lessons on discretion had been eclipsed by desperation, the desperation of an illegitimate, girl trying to save her sick mother. Now, twenty years later, the same man who had berated and threatened her during that encounter, was now begging her not to hang up.
By Sharon Barnes5 years ago in Horror
