My Creative Work

“Sir! Please, I beg of you, spare an apple or a coin.” Terrabeth shyly pulled the tattered dress to cover her bare shoulder. The man was high born by the horse he rode, clothes he wore and gold signet ring. A lord, possibly. She arranged herself more artfully on the rock, allowing a hint of […]

Author’s Note: This is a little piece I wrote shortly after my mother died. I don’t think it’s possible for mom’s to ever get the credit they deserve, but let’s keep on trying. Happy Mother’s Day to all moms and mom acting people. “I don’t know about you, Mom, but that’s the best damn cornbread

She looked one last time at the yellow slip of paper and stuffed it in her pocket. She felt a tickle on her wrist. Her coat left a smear on the railing, moisture seeping through polyester lining and fake wool. The subway was half-full, her arms hurt, her knees were a little weak. It was

“Dude. You see that squirrel over there?” Jack looked at his watch. Twelve-fifteen. Usually he’s halfway through morning shift at the coffee shop. “Yeah? What about it?” Leonard passed off to him, he paused before replying. “It’s freaking beautiful,” Jack said on a flow of breath. “Dude. You’re right. It’s like, a supermodel squirrel.” Leonard

Author’s Note: No children were harmed in the making of this short story. The sun hung bright and lemony in the clear blue sky. A perfect day. Now, anyway. The neighborhood was quiet, not even a dog barked. She hummed to herself as she went about her work. As she hung up the masks on

Note: This story may or may not reflect the author’s personal view of the subject within. The story appeared fully formed in my head so I wrote it. “Two hours in this store and that’s what you’re getting?” “And the problem with that is?” “It’s crap.” “You’re an ass.” “Don’t be base because you’ve got

“I want the sun.” The table’s cracked surface looked comfy right now. She’d stayed up until three AM watching the moon. She’d never gotten Sam to stay up past ten. “We’ve talked about this.” Linda pushed the topaz pill closer. It was pretty, better suited for a necklace than her belligerent son. “This is the