The long dark

The long dark

The silence is uneasy. Why don’t the birds don’t sing here? I can see tattered bits of sky above, but the sun doesn’t reach me. Have I always been so tiny? Has there ever been another way?

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The Inner Calm

The Inner Calm

…And all around the world carried on. There was noise and commotion and chaos. There were crimes and there were miracles, and the wind tore away.
He did not know it.

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120 Haikus Part 2

At 11:00 on Sunday night I cranked out the last of my hourly haikus for the Twitter Fiction Festival. It was a lot of fun but by the end I was really looking forward to catching up on all the sleep I missed! Here is the second part of the haiku collection – numbers 61 through 120. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my sleep deprivation! 😉 Continue reading

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120 Haikus – part 1

My ongoing contribution to the Twitter Fiction Festival is a collection of 120 haikus; one for each hour (posted on the hour) of the five day festival. I’m a little over half-way through now and boy, am I tired! I’m having fun but I can’t wait for it to be over. Here is the first half of the haiku collection. I hope you enjoy! Continue reading

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The Mine

It’s -20C outside, but by the time I set my pack down I’m sweating and thirsty. I have to take a seat in the snow before I’m able to continue.

A wall of thick white ice greets me at the entrance. Nature has shut down this old mine for the season, but I have a duty to get inside. I pull my pick-axe out of my bag and get back to work – I must be quick and I must be quiet or I will disturb the residents of the mine. I chisel at the ice until late into the morning hours, and am thankful that I had the foresight to set out before sunrise. Continue reading

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The Sky at Night

Someone once told me “Set your sights on the stars!”
At first I wasn’t entirely convinced that this was a wise idea. Then, someone else assured me that it was, indeed, sound advice. It may have been Oprah.
I’m really not one to squander a gift, so I took the words to heart. I set my sights on the sky, and I haven’t looked back since. Sometimes I wonder, though, if my trusted advisors have ever followed their own counsel. Do they know that it gets really cold at night? Or that it’s lonely after dark, when the stars are shining brightly?
Now, I’m not one to complain, but my neck is really getting sore. Sometimes I hear people passing by and I would love to stop and chat, but they’re just not in my field of vision. And let me tell you, keeping your feet on the ground isn’t easy with your nose in the air. My knees and hands are scraped from tripping over every crack and pebble.
Someone once said to me “Look where you’re going!”
Ha! I guess no one told him that the earth is not enough. That poor guy will never reach the stars like me.

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The Road Behind

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I left fresh tracks in the snow behind me as I walked down the old dirt road. The frigid air chewed at the tip of my nose with its tiny sharp teeth. The sun was just trying to push through the thick canopy overhead. The robins were the only singers. It was a beautiful morning. Continue reading

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Nothing is More Beautiful than Me.

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Nothing is more beautiful than me.
My laughter rings out like a hundred tiny bells or blares like a fog horn, depending on my mood.
Sometimes I do it when I’m nervous.

You wish you had hair like mine. Naturally wheat blonde, it’s long and thick and lustrous.
And when I let it down, it covers my body.

You may feel inferior around me. I own every room I walk into. How could you live up to that?
My self-standards are harsher than you can imagine, too.

I always seem to know everything about everything, don’t I? And what I don’t know much about, I disdain.
If you could only hear how I talk to myself…

My smile can light up a room. You probably wonder how I’m always so happy and ready to laugh.
Do you want to know the truth? It’s exhausting.

I have the body of a goddess. A tiny waist and a striking hourglass shape. I always look flawless.
But you’d see my flaws too, if I let you.

So there it is. We are all just trying to keep it together. I’m as confused and imperfect as I know you are.
And we are each of us our own worst critics.

The more we grasp at our illusions, the finer the dust that slips through our fingers. I’m ready to say it aloud now: I’m flawed and I’m flustered.
But nothing – you heard me, nothing – is more beautiful than me.

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Looming

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The first post!  How many times can you edit a piece before the whole exercise loses meaning?  At some point you have to push it out the door, cross your fingers, and hope it will make it in the world on its own.  So, without further ado, here is “Looming”:


Paul really didn’t want to go out.  He was exhausted just thinking about it – all those fake smiles, those forced laughs.  Always having to think of something witty to say.  The anxiety beforehand, the self-deprecation afterward.
Paul and Jane had been mainstays of the group.  They met and fell in love during the weekly get-togethers and frequent celebrations.  Since getting married, Paul no longer felt the need to push the boundaries of his comfortable existence by extending himself to the outside world.  Jane used to try to get him to go out all the time.  He always refused, and then felt bothered when she went out alone.  Now neither of them went out except on special occasions – birthdays, bachelor parties, the annual Christmas dinner.  No one even called them otherwise anymore. Continue reading

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