Monthly Archive: June, 2015

On Par

Was she staring at him? Feeling panicked, he hastily pulled on his jacket. He could feel the skin on his arms shrink from the fabric. I have no other choice, he whispered, trying… Continue reading

All the Other Tools

It ended in the shed down in the woods where daddy keeps his tools.   Mama was crying. I saw her through the window. Her face wet with tortured tears.   She twisted… Continue reading

Fighting with the Devil

Juan goes to church, because he sees the devil in his dreams.  He wakes up in the middle of the night with sweat streaming down his body. “I don’t know why he don’t… Continue reading

Under Your Armor of Anger

In my pocket, I keep regrets. Now and then, I take them out, hold them in my hand, and I look at them. Their edges are sharp. They cut deep and leave scars.… Continue reading

The Voices

After a long day at the office, Dr. Scott Petit couldn’t wait to get home.  As he approached his car, what appeared to be a sleeping squirrel on his hood turned out to… Continue reading

DIY Sola Flower Bouquets

I got married on May 30th of this year, and when I was contemplating wedding bouquets, I knew that I wanted something made from nature.  I love real flowers but have always felt… Continue reading

Elusive

She turned her face to the sun, hoping to feel its warmth.  There was a breeze in the air. She knew this from the swaying trees.  Sighing, she walked towards the cliff; mesmerized… Continue reading

Banjo Creek – Part I

Grandpa loved to fish and would rise when the sun did. He’d take his trusty wooden pail and his walking stick. In turtle pace, he’d plod down Longman’s Trail to the Banjo Creek.… Continue reading

God Still Loves Emma Sue

I ain’t gonna wear my hat, mama, she announced with her chin fiercely squared. Emma Sue, you know good women folk wear hats.  There aint never been no questions ‘bout that! If I… Continue reading

The Irreverent Gravedigger

The gravedigger leaned on his shovel, glaring up at the sun, annoyed. Sweat made dirt trails down his dusty face, drenching his shirt wet. He was digging a hole for a lady, cursing… Continue reading