Unspoken
I'm not much of a letter writer. I never feel I have the time to sit and write when it's quicker to pick up the phone and call someone. But,…
I'm not much of a letter writer. I never feel I have the time to sit and write when it's quicker to pick up the phone and call someone. But,…
The listening man sat in his usual seat on the morning train to the city. He was wearing his usual black suit and round reading glasses. He leaned forward. Intent.…
One summer morning over breakfast Arlene, Max’s wife of twenty-five years, announced that she was planning to have an affair. “Who plans to have an affair and tells the…
Mrs. Porter glared down at the statue. Lately, it seemed to be mocking her, fixing its stony gaze upwards towards this bathroom as if it hated her. “Well,” she…
I am grown now, a woman with a child of my own. My sisters and I are still close: we keep in touch but never speak about the day…
When I was younger, I would write very long stories. I learned by doing this. I also had a 'wordy head' connected to lots of thoughts. Now, I want simplicity.…
A note from me, the author. This is another story from 'So Long Polyester'. The first one I posted was 'Love, Like Stew'. The works contained in this collection are…
He tried to take her life. Not her living body life; the breath, skin and bones. He needed these intact. It was more life as she lived…
The blocked writer's notebook lays open before him. He has read, been told, been warned there is no such thing as a blocked writer. This is a myth. 'Your block…
She called me Bah-Bah. Everyone else in the family had normal names. Joe. Lily. Ernie. The most exotic, Edith. When I was old enough to understand that…