Excerpt
Twelve Layers of Success and Shame
Standing on the back porch; and all I could see was dust. They could call it "The Fair City" if they wanted to, but this was anything but fair. Perth is the most irritating town this side of the Brazos. Everyone knows who should and should not be within its town limits, as well as within twenty miles. I came home after a failed marriage; actually, Gavin tried to have me killed, and college took all my money. I needed to take care of my family and start the next chapter of my life. Trust me, this is not how I thought I would be spending my prime, but I will make it work.
By Kathy Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
Sweet tasting fire.
“Ever finger a piece a chocolate cake with your fork”, she whispered to the fire. Beckha watched as the flames danced, creating faces, people and animals and all sorts of magic, the flames almost seducing her like a lover. Like seduction, it can be a daily practice playing with fire or it can be a devotion like Agnihotra at the exact time of sunset or sunrise. Fire, no matter in play or devotion is a beautiful element, both ferocious and mystical. Alluring yet fearing. A bushfire can destroy many lives, many homes, many existences and yet bring forth the moment of rebirth and the sweetest regeneration to the earth. Even the smaller fires, the one which Beckha watched holds an ancient wisdom that beckons her intently. “You know like you finger the cake because you feel so wistful, you just watch the fork go round and round and round” she continued, streams of tears falling down her delicate face. The Wheel of Samsara. The breeze blew softly as if to agree. Beckha nodded in acknowledgement and ran through the tears with her finger, making a diamond shape across her face.
By Rebecca Clarkson4 years ago in Fiction
Changeling Child. Top Story - September 2021.
The night that Mary Bennet was born had been a clear, cold one. Stars illuminated the cloudless sky, as if watching over some fortuitous event. The village of Longbourn, and it's neighboring town of Meryton, were as quiet as they ever could be. Indeed, it was almost peaceful, if not for the happenings at Longbourn.
By Natasja Rose5 years ago in Fiction
Under the Pear Tree
When I was a child, there was a pear tree in the backyard. It was my dad’s pride and joy—it was big and beautiful and gave us a little extra cash when he’d sell the fruit at the farmer’s market. If the weather permitted, I’d sit under it and read, enveloped in my own little world. Until one of the neighborhood boys would try picking a fight, but I was a good child up to that point.
By Christian Bellmore5 years ago in Fiction
Proud Magnolias and Messy Relationships
Her mind reveled in the stark contrasts ahead of her. The asphalt shimmered with heat, but the proud magnolia tree spread her thick branches of green leaves and huge, bright, creamy blossoms outward to shade several cars in the lot. She could easily imagine a time when this tree stood alone in an empty field, giving a fragrant refuge to a child who could escape into a world of dreams and possibility. She’d gladly trade the mess the tree left on her beat-up, silver Honda Civic for the lovely scent and the coolness underneath.
By Amy Proebstel5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart Mightier Than The Pen
Walking up the high drive towards the gabled barn entrance, Jeremy saw a docent silhouetted against the outpouring luminescence of LEDs hanging from the rafters, their ancient adze scars a rustic landscape of ridges and valleys transmuted into urbanity by the metal-clad wiring running lengthwise on the underside of every beam, its courses interrupted only by constellations of warm light.
By Jazz Martin 5 years ago in Fiction
Home Turf
This is part 2 of a mini series! Part 1, Home Turf: A job, is up on my profile! Tag awoke to icy water dripping on her face. Directly above her were the leaking beams of a roof, from which water drops fell in regular intervals. A drop landed on her lips and she sensed the metallic taste of rust.
By charlotte meilaender5 years ago in Fiction
The Road Home
The Old Barn With the dense storm clouds pushing closer the winds had begun to pick up, whistling and whipping through the swaying pines and mighty oaks. Along with it came a noticeable drop in temperature but Jake loved that about fall storms. He cherished a lot of things about the rain but it was the petrichor lingering in the air that he loved the most.
By Jackson Howl5 years ago in Fiction
A walk
Neon yellow signs border the crosswalk and proclaim “must yield to pedestrians”. The median touts a similar message demanding that all drivers allow for the pedestrian to stroll through the chalked lattice unharmed. Those signs still shock me. When I first saw them well over a decade ago, I laughed and took a picture. Growing up my life consisted of shuffling between the suburbs and the city, I’d become accustomed to cars sleepily pausing to let occasional pedestrians cross the street, or escaping certain death from antsy cab drivers who actively rejected the idea of a stop sign. But a sign that unapologetically protected a pedestrian?! How novel.
By Amelia Keiser5 years ago in Fiction
Can they see past their differences to lasso happily ever after?
Part 4 Becky’s fingers strummed a few notes on her guitar before she started singing softly again. Apparently, she felt more comfortable singing beside him than hearing him talk. At this point, he’d agree with her assessment of the situation. He closed his eyes and let her music flow through him.
By Amy Proebstel5 years ago in Fiction
Can they survive a gold digger’s scheming to discover their perfect match?
Part 3 Hearing the news about Katy getting ready to leave and then actually watching her depart was one of the best feelings Becky ever knew. When the unwanted woman stepped into the limousine, the house felt lighter, as if the ominous presence cleared out. She stood at a side window, remaining unseen by anyone outside, just making sure the woman actually left and didn’t just pretend to go.
By Amy Proebstel5 years ago in Fiction
