Heidi Beth Sadler
I am a wild violinist & visual artist in Portland, OR. I co-front world-folk rock band Chasing Ebenezer with my husband Benjamin. I paint in the spirit of pointillism and textured art. I love writing and am so grateful you visited my page.
The Hairspray Murders
I was a child in the long ago land of the 1980’s when neon and spandex painted the scene. What a time! One thing that takes me back to that season of power ballads and Atari is hairspray. Under the main stairwell of my grandparents’ home in Tacoma, WA, there was a tiny bathroom. The lingering scent of my grandmother’s Aquanet and her cigarette smoke met me in that secret hideaway. It was my favorite room in the house.
It’s early. The store is sleepy with shelf stockers and introverted shoppers. This is my favorite time to buy groceries. I get nervous in packed aisles. I am easily overwhelmed by incessant shopping carts. This quiet period is my time to scrutinize prices and value. I don’t have to be concerned that I am blocking other shoppers while I analyze the quality of the bananas and the red leaf lettuce. This is serious business, after all.
The Grave Robber Journals
“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.” That’s what I heard on the radio just an hour ago, but here’s my question: since no one has ever left Earth, how can you know if that’s true or not? Isn’t it all a best guess?
80's Baby Drinks Deep
The parched throat of an elementary school kid is no minor crisis. It feels like death. A painful, lingering kind that the adults just don’t understand. I can testify to the severity of the situation. The glory of a summer day can be destroyed when a little girl is dying of thirst. Her parents will definitely hear about it. I know mine did.
A Parlor Tale
San Francisco, 1919 She never believed him. Not really. The stories were too absurd. No matter how many times Grandfather insisted they were true, Nadine remained unconvinced. Nevertheless, it was fun to pretend. She’d been pretending for twenty years.
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. But that was a long time ago, before the music stopped and the children began to disappear. You can’t create an ending without something else beginning. This is the life-death cycle that resides in all of us. No planet is immune.