Allison Rice
Bio
Finalist 2022 V+ Fiction Awards, Allison Rice is a work in progress! Author of 5 previous Top Story honors including “Immigrants Among Us” "Pandemic ABCs" and a piece about Inclusion, Alli is an avid reader, and always has a story to tell!
Stories (77/0)
A Wish Remembered
Marti pulled into the overgrown circle driveway and sat, staring at her own last name on the big, red, hip-roofed barn. She had never wanted the name she was given at age when she first came to this place at age five. She had been Martina Lopez before the farm. Sometimes Abuela called her “Marti”, but the way she said it, with a rolled “r” and long vowels was musical. The flat, midwestern pronunciation of her new family just wasn’t the same. “Your name is Mar-dee Miller now,” they told her. She hated it, but she didn’t have much choice. For as long as she could remember, Abuela and Catarina had taken care of her. But then Abuela had a stroke and the lady said that Catarina, at age nine, wasn’t old enough to take care of them. Not that she hadn’t tried. Cat had always been a little mother – looking after everyone else. Even now, her older sister had taken time out of her busy, suburban mom life to call and make sure Marti was okay.
By Allison Rice3 years ago in Fiction
Building Sanctuary
Marti pulled into the overgrown circle driveway and sat, staring at her own last name on the big, L-shaped, hip-roofed barn. She had never wanted the name she was given when she first came to this place at age five. She had been Martina Lopez before the farm. Sometimes Abuela called her “Marti”, but the way she said it, with a rolled “r” and long vowels was musical. The flat, midwestern pronunciation of her new family just wasn’t the same. “Your name is Mar-dee Miller now,” they told her. She hated it, but she didn’t have much choice. For as long as she could remember, Abuela and Catarina had taken care of her. But then Abuela had a stroke and the lady said that Catarina, at age nine, wasn’t old enough to take care of them. Not that she hadn’t tried. Cat had always been a little mother – looking after everyone else. Even now, her older sister had taken time out of her busy, suburban mom life to call and make sure Marti was okay.
By Allison Rice3 years ago in Families
Island time, Island Flavor
I first stepped foot onto an old, weathered dock on Isla Mujeres, Quintano Roo, Mexico twenty-two years ago. Since that time, I have visited several times, and I always prefer to take the slow, old, open-sided ferry to the small island. Sure, there are speedy, air-conditioned express ferries that will get you there in half the time, but I find that slowly putting across the clear, calm, turquoise waters of the Bay of Mujeres while sitting next to a crate of limes and a cage of chickens really sets the tone for stepping into the relaxed pace that is “island time.”
By Allison Rice3 years ago in Feast
Home is Where the Heart is
Mouse woke to sunlight streaming into her swollen eyes, and a thrumming headache. Served her right for spending the past three days drinking all the alcohol in the entire world. She groaned. Summer heat had drawn her “Up North” to the cool stands of evergreens in the northern tip of Michigan’s lower peninsula. The breeze off the lake, the majestic pines, the northern latitude – they’d all helped her beat the heat – as had the storage cellar under the tiny, country store that was her current home. She’d spent the hottest days there before getting the generator running for well water and refrigeration. There she had discovered a cache of whiskey, beer, and wine that campers and hunters used to buy on their way to their various recreational pursuits.
By Allison Rice3 years ago in Fiction