Hollye B. Green
Bio
I'm a storyteller through poetry, song, and short stories. Our stories make us who we are. I live at Avalon Loft & Lodge with my crazy dogs, and my son, artist/illustrator Connor McManis.
Stories (14/0)
Infinity Wheel: Chapter 5
Inez sat on the piano bench gripping the sides. She had done all her warm-ups and practice exercises. The music sheet for “Carnival of the Animals” lay open in front of her, but she could not get past the first few stanzas. Her hands cramped and curled rigid. Her heart went quiet like a whisper.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Horror
A Fabled Connection
Stories make us who we are. From the time I was little, way back in the 1970's, my heart and mind were captured by stories, fables, and fairy tales. I was not a healthy child and my world was very small. There were not a lot of humans in my life and few good adults. But there was an endless supply of stories, legends, anecdotes.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Journal
Infinity Wheel: Chapter 3
The mustache was limp. There was no helping it now. The wax was used up and Cosmo had resorted to styling it with lard. Sometimes the lard-coated hairs hung in a sad Fu Manchu over his mouth. Cosmo would endeavor to speak only to inhale them and cough them out. Although the texture was horrid, the taste was not all that bad. Still, it was infuriating. “Curse these bucolic tiny villages and their backwards cretins devoid of niceries!” he thought.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Horror
Infinity Wheel Chapter Two
“Chew slow” thought Weety as he clutched the turkey sandwich from Miss Miriam. It was good medicine. “You have to take good medicine slow”. That’s what the doctors told him a long time ago. Bad medicine was different. It hit fast and hard and there was no choice.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Horror
Infinity Wheel: Chapter One
It was a few minutes before three p.m. on a hot, weedy August day. The yellow xoysia grass baked its alien shapes into the retreating green fescue. Gnats swarmed around the damp dresses on Miss Miriam’s clothesline. The sun put out a hard radiance that slowed down everyone and everything. Even the fat, mottled spider in Miss Miriam’s porch lattice just sat there with legs still.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Horror
Outhouse Gauntlet
When I was little, we spent every June visiting relatives in Kentucky. All their little houses were clustered on one sprawling piece of verdant land called Green’s Valley. It had been the site of the general store owned by my great-grandpa, Les Green. My grandpa was the oldest of Les’s thirteen children. Half a dozen of them never left the lush acreage.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Families
Cougar the Courageous
This is a true story about my childhood growing up in Ohio: We were rat poor. Meaning we could no longer afford trash pickup. The awning of our patio had fallen. The garbage grew. The rats came. Two bloated, scurrying, toothy pirates clicking their nails across our pavement and keeping me from my own back yard.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Petlife
The Soul Cages
I planted daffodils today. Pale buttery ones with burnt orange centers. As it has snowed here the last 6 Sundays, I acted in deliberate faith that Spring is finally here. Connor and I dug up the bed around the big oak and we portioned the bursting bulbs out in couples. Each bulb has a partner so they support each other through the coming years like little maturing couples. Every year they will shed their crinkly outer skin and renew themselves in a party of green stalks and showy summer outfits.
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Humans
The Beauty of Neurodiversity
My brain gave me the gift of a dream last night and I had to write it up and share it. In the dream I was teaching my Self-Esteem and Empathy module to high schoolers with special needs. So, a real-life situation, except I was wearing a stripey halter top and pink shorts. The teacher was dressed in an elaborate steampunk costume. The students ambled about the class, but they were absorbing the lesson. A girl (also in a stripey shirt) raised her hand and I read her question without her speaking. Apparently, people who wear stripes share telepathy. I answered with a tangent about how test scores/IQ scored affect self-esteem. The CRUX AND NUGGET of this dream is the absolute gift of neurodiversity! (Keep reading!)
By Hollye B. Green3 years ago in Humans