The Chest
You can write about anything, she said. I remember looking at the lock and key of the chest that lays at my feet, across from my favorite writing spot. I couldn’t take my eyes off the keyhole, thinking about all the memories inside the chest. It’s deep scratches and minor scuffs. The way the paint...
Cat Fishin
What do you see Mr. Cat Fishin? I see love at the end of my pole and a moon over my shoulder, perched on this out-cropping boulder The blue water surrounds, but not a fish to be found. I look long to the sea, but not a fish will there be. “I’m right here”, said...
At The Window
I couldn’t decide where to place my attention, the reflection of myself or the long winding driveway ahead. The driveway, I decided. I’ve travelled that driveway so many times, escorting children out to the school bus and back up the drive for lunch. I’ve greeted delivery drivers and then that one time the stranded motorist...
Claudette On Writer’s Block
She had wanted to be a writer since high school. She can recall the time seated in her high school English class when Mrs. Robinson had laid her writing assignment on her desk. Coming down each row, Mrs. Robinson doling out the papers, face down, each student staring straight ahead, uncertain of the outcome of...
She Could Fly
She flew over the city. She had never intended to a be a flying pig. She wore her favorite skirt that day. The one of aqua chiffon with the tiny black pearl belt. It fit her perfectly. It was neither too short nor too long. Perhaps she chose it because it was missing exactly that. ...
