Shirley Meadows
Bio
I've raised my babies alone. I like to write, have for as long as I can remember. I didn't have much time to do anything I liked when the kids were small. I was just happy to get a few minutes to think during those days. I miss those days.
Stories (4)
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Her World
A lifetime of love and care to the man she met as a boy. He was world for so long that she could not remember a time when he was not in the center of it. They met in high school. Those were the times when women did not have the choices they did today. It was pre-written that she was to find a husband, have babies, and take care of her family. The fight for women’s equality had made big strides, but there was still a long way to go. It would not have made a difference to her anyway. She would have chosen him. She would have chosen the same life because of her love for him.
By Shirley Meadows5 years ago in Families
Night of Fire
NIGHT OF FIRE Dave drove down the highway, nearing the end of his three-hour road trip. He had the perfect plan if he was sure to execute it properly. A visit with his family may even persuade him to change his mind. He may even be able to come up with a different solution. Killing a dream that was once his own was going to be hard by itself. Killing the dream of a long-time friend was proving to be the true test of his will. Time with his family at his childhood home may open his eyes to something he had missed.
By Shirley Meadows5 years ago in Criminal
Unlikely Beginnings
Jessica Morgan stood still trying to catch her breath. Her head was spinning out of control, and she felt like she would collapse at any moment. Joe Spencer lay limp at her feet. She did not mean to hurt him, only to protect herself. She knelt with her heart trying to jump out of her chest and placed her fingers on his neck. She could not feel anything. She had never checked anyone for a pulse before and did not know if she was doing it correctly.
By Shirley Meadows5 years ago in Criminal
Words Escape Me
Grasping at words, trying to find the right ones. I can never seem to find them anymore. They used to flow so easily. They say that pain is the source of all great work? How can that be? The greatest things I’ve ever written were written before I lost you… before I knew what real pain was.
By Shirley Meadows5 years ago in Poets
