Charlotte Stetson
Bio
Stories (11/0)
Lost and Found
My search ends in an impossibly old New England library, hewn stone, round turret. Wheelchair ramp inartfully added beside dangerously worn steps. It smells like a library: pages crackle when they turn; bindings lay flat; remnants of readers wander cramped stacks. Books, magazine racks and computer tables shoulder each other for space.
By Charlotte Stetson10 months ago in Fiction
More Than a Year
“Mom, last night’s anniversary dinner was lovely. One full year. So shut up now lol,” Carrie texted as soon as she woke up. She could hear Kevin moving around and the smell of bacon already filling the apartment. She set her phone down, got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.
By Charlotte Stetson11 months ago in Fiction
The Kiss
The kiss was not supposed to happen. Lori had a boyfriend. But Marlon was awfully handsome in his uniform, his muscles still pumped from the game that had finished a few minutes ago. High school lust being what it is, and high school kids being who they are, the kiss happened, and later that night, a whole lot more happened. The late sixties promised sexual freedom, but they hadn’t added much more sense or education to the sexual repression of the fifties.
By Charlotte Stetson12 months ago in Fiction
Five Things Movie Makers Should Just Stop
If you watch a lot of movies, and I do, you know that there are trends over time in how movies are made. Studios, directors, writers, designers - all fall victim to the tendency to look around and see what other people are doing, and then copy it. Occasionally this is a good thing, more often it just leads to lazy movie making. And every now and then, it's downright ridiculous.
By Charlotte Stetson2 years ago in Geeks
My hair really is clean
Dear Mom. It's weird the things that stay with you over time. I clearly remember announcing to the carpool full of little girls you were driving to kindergarten one day that MY nickname was "Dammit, Char!" I don't remember at all the bright red face you tell me you had right after I said that.
By Charlotte Stetson2 years ago in Confessions
The First Crocus
My baby sister and I sat inside a ring of stones that had been placed around a dogwood tree in our yard, looking at some of the first crocuses of the year. This was the first house my parents bought, with a big yard that my mother was eager to landscape. My mom loved bulb flowers, crocuses, daffodils, tulips and anything else that looked colorful on the packages lining the garden center shelves. But crocus were her favorite. Tiny little explorers braving the cold and snow, sacrificing their petals young so that bigger, bolder flowers could follow.
By Charlotte Stetson2 years ago in Families
The Truth About Journaling
Ever been so angry that you can't do anything but kind of scream and growl? And then a few seconds later the tears come. Or maybe a family member did something that hurt you and all you could think to do was slam the door and yell ugly things on your way out.
By Charlotte Stetson2 years ago in Psyche