The Wednesday Word

Silence was met with mostly silence. This is not unexpected. However there was more interest than I would have expected for a new thing, enough of it positive that I shall keep going. Stefanie, author of A Stone in the River, threw this up there: We think of silence as the absence of sound. But… Continue reading The Wednesday Word

A Love Story for Bloomsday

Thomas Bloom was a professor. Business. He was not remarkable looking, talking, feeling, or thinking. The only remarkableness about Tom was an enormous lack of remarkableness. Bored freshmen amused themselves by pretending this apparent unremarkability constituted a cover for a secret identity of intrigue. Only for amusement. Could they have entered his mind, they would… Continue reading A Love Story for Bloomsday

The Wednesday Word

I’ve thought of something I can do with Wednesdays! I participate in various prompts and puzzles on Twitter. I find it helps to keep an old mind limber, being forced to think and create using some idea that is not native to my brain. It forces new perspective. It’s also great fun. And it is… Continue reading The Wednesday Word

Immolation

They came for me as I was grinding the last of the roasted spelt. My sisters stood by with downcast eyes. I did not know who of them believed in my innocence. I found that I was troubled by this. I would go to my death willingly, but I was unwilling to let the ravenous… Continue reading Immolation

A Children’s Story

This is something I've had around for a long time. I'd like it to be a picture book some day. As I have little else in my head right now (other than "ouch" — what with new gardens and box cutters and a number of other stressors) I thought I might share this with you.… Continue reading A Children’s Story

Memory (Winifred Mumbles)

i remember. the smell of water on dust. the sound of birdsong in the soft morning light. the chiaroscuro texture of resin beads on juniper needles. i remember walking. walking. walking. mama at my side.  i remember heat. and death. i remember the lost. i remember coming to this place. it’s been seven decades by… Continue reading Memory (Winifred Mumbles)

Collision: On Home

This particular passage is why I decided to air out this WIP this particular week. Fintan stood on the front steps and drew a deep breath before going into his house. The mail carrier drove up behind him and dumped a pile of catalogs in their box. Now Fintan knew time was wonky. The mail… Continue reading Collision: On Home