Beth Imperial-Rogers
Bio
Social worker, teacher, maker of all sorts
Stories (8/0)
Fiona's Famous Cake Platter
Fiona Crumbleberry Fiona Crumbleberry was a year 2 student when Matilda was in the bottom class. She was a striking girl with dark hair and porcelain skin. “The same glacial beauty as an iceberg”, her mum was fond of saying, to which her father would mutter “but unlike the iceberg, has absolutely nothing below the surface.” Mrs. Crumbleberry would reply, “Oh, she’s a dreamer, just like Grandpa Crumbleberry, her mind always flying high looking to create something special.” Her father, Frederick Crumbleberry would respond “Head in the clouds is more like it”.
By Beth Imperial-Rogers3 years ago in Fiction
Chasing Flavors Across the Globe
In 2012, a summer viral infection caused damage to my olfactory nerve. I was unable to smell, a condition called anosmia. At first, I thought I was just still congested and within a week or two, I’d regain my sense of smell. But when we went to a family member’s wedding a few weeks out and I could neither detect the scent of the beautiful flowers at the venue or the flavors of the special celebration meal I knew something was wrong. Then came something called parosmia, which was a distorted sense of smell and flavors. The air smelled foul, and I wasn’t able to sleep breathing in the odors of what seemed like being in a dumpster full of garbage. Things like wine, citrus fruits, melons and cucumbers tasted like what I would imagine eating a dirty diaper is like. Everything else I couldn’t smell.
By Beth Imperial-Rogers3 years ago in Feast
The Menders
When the gods summon, it’s best not to keep them waiting. But Jali was on the 8th dimension testing out new wave surfing techniques, and only Who knew where Raxis was off to. When they finally arrived at HQ, the gods known as Morpheus were impatient. They were lesser gods, not having fully achieved the One, nonetheless, they were a deity.
By Beth Imperial-Rogers3 years ago in Fiction
TBD
Jali carefully removed the chain from her neck, sliding the locket into the hidden pocket she had sewn into the sleeve covering her prosthetic arm. If all went well, the Tompkins chip concealed behind the photos of her and Raxis in the locket would be accepted by the scanner, and she could withdraw her remaining monthly credits. It was a risk, but she hoped that the gold-filled metal heart locket would provide just enough current for the chip to be read when connected to the cloned bud that was growing into an arm under the prosthesis. If the circuit could not be made, the sensor implant without the accompanying chip would set off an alarm and she would be arrested for amputating her chipped arm.
By Beth Imperial-Rogers3 years ago in Fiction
Steering with Scissors: A social worker’s story
King Arthur has Excalibur, Thor has his hammer, Glenda has her wand and Harold has his purple crayon. My superpower is using creativity in my journey through life’s hills and valleys, its twists and turns. And I have my scissors to help me accomplish that.
By Beth Imperial-Rogers3 years ago in Psyche
