C. H. Richard
Bio
My passion is and has always been writing. I am particularly drawn to writing fiction that has relatable storylines which hopefully keep readers engaged
Stories (115/0)
- Runner-Up in Next Great [American] Novel Challenge
Living Behind Easy StreetRunner-Up in Next Great [American] Novel Challenge
Marty I held the cardboard out in front of my shoulders. At the same time, I hung my head low, looking down at the ground so not to see the faces who would not look at me. I was actually proud of my words even though there was no pride for where I was or what I was doing. The unabashed simple vanity came from my spelling. I was always an awesome speller in school and even won junior high spelling bees. Even now it was something I felt that set me apart. My sign that day stated:
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Fiction
Back On The Bull
"The house was perfect!" Kendra thought to herself as she walked up to the front door. She carefully held the damn blue vase for her buyer that had to be shown in every room. Meticulous beautiful garden out front. Three car garage. Wrap around farmers porch, an acre of land, gorgeous views; How was this place still on the market? Listed again for the third time in two years. She just pushed back negative possible reasons in her head. She wanted this deal to go through. She needed this deal to go through.
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Fiction
There Were Three Missing
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. This picture of hope is what my mother told me she would use to cope. She cleaned for a man who was part of The Policy when I was young before my sisters were born. The window provided that small opening that she could see a place where nature had not been tortured. Where animals moved around, and birds flew in the sky. She still had hope then, still believed that things would eventually work out. I wish I could talk to her now after all that has happened.
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Earth
The Brother Who Kept
I was to blame I thought as I looked around the weathered old barn. I was always to blame as I was the one who left. My father said so, the people in town said as much and my brothers would agree I was to blame for leaving and what might have been.
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Fiction
Under the Corner Streetlamp
Celia looked down at the text on her phone from her older sister as she was strolling to her café in downtown Portsmouth, New Hampshire. She carefully moved along over the cobblestone sidewalks keeping her face mask up while trying to answer her sister. She knew it was not safe to walk and text, but hell nothing was safe these days. The bag of groceries she was carrying was becoming heavy as the plastic was pulling on her wrist. Monica, her sister, was debating whether to get the vaccine as she was in the next round of eligibility. Celia’s brother in-law, Monica’s husband, was against the vaccine, but her sister, always undecided, wanted Celia’s opinion. “Up to you” was Celia’s ambivalent reply as she put the key into the door of her café which had been closed for two months. She was not trying to sound indifferent, but she was so done with this whole pandemic, and the life that was now this “new normal!” She sent Monica a smiley emoji and texted “Got to go!”
By C. H. Richard3 years ago in Humans