This short story is one I entered in "Wish You Were Here," a Redwood Writers contest about travel experiences. And guess what. I won first place! Read it here.
Excerpt from my current novel in progress, For the Birds. Photo by Hannah Porter on Unsplash While Meadow freshened up in the bathroom, I did a quick dust job of the canopy of branches over the bed, then changed the sheets. By the time she came out, the bed was turned down, the room bathed in the soft … Continue reading Short Story: The Tree Bed
“Edison McIntyre,” he said in his thick accent, affecting my heartbeat as he clasped my hand in his. The amused squint of his eyes didn’t help, our secret history flowing between us, unbeknownst to Mr. Finnigan. “Charles has told me all about you,” Sonny continued. “I look forward to us working together." ...
The bees were already at work on the lavender bushes, despite the early hour, and I watered the base of the billowing plants to avoid soaking their fuzzy bodies. “You’re doing a wonderful job,” I cheered them on, just like Mom used to do. She talked to the bees, the birds, and the plants the same way she’d talk to a child, asking them about their day and offering encouragement. When I was young, I swore they answered her. ...
Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to fly? Here's a short story about it.
I'm sitting at the pristine succulent-lined café bar, the city on pause outside, filtered out by clean air and soft music. An elevator ride away and I’ll be in a smoky lobby, surrounded by bells and sirens, the sounds of celebration drowning out the silence of despair.
The air had a bite to it, a slapping sting to her fevered skin, as they exited the crowded jazz club into the misty night.
Everything goes dark as the car submerges completely, and my breath comes in short gasps. It’s all I can hear above the rushing river and the metal against glass as I continue my attempts at escape.