Jessica Conaway
Stories (56/0)
Time of Plenty
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere stands an old barn- long past its usefulness but still handsome in its own unassuming way. A timid morning sun shows its first signs of arrival over its roof and highlights the blank sky with traces of gold. The stars have nearly disappeared, ready to retire, another night’s work nearly complete. This is the place where the evening meets the daylight, conversing with one another without any expectation. Soon it will be full dawn, but for now, the world sleeps soundly beneath a blanket that the two skies have woven together.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Fiction
Buddy
Blaine Lucas hates tourists. He hates their excited smiles and sweat stained tee shirts and patchy sunburns and the way they always balance things; luggage, shopping bags, children, when they approach the check-in desk. He hates their constant needs…I NEED a nonsmoking room, I NEED more towels, I NEED turndown service.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Fiction
A Xennial’s Review of Netflix’s “Fear Street Part One: 1994”
Growing up in the ‘80s and ‘90s was terrifying. It was only natural that we gravitated to the fictional spooky when our young lives were filled with real-life Big Bads like creeps in white vans and teenagers who tried to force us to smoke crack in the park (or so the ABC Afterschool Specials foretold).
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Geeks
Scary Stories to Tell at Your Haunt
I am an educator in real life. For nearly a decade I've taught young people the fine art of finding their passion through career assessments and goal setting. Then I've taught them how to make it happen through job searching skills, networking and interviewing strategies.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Horror
What Happened to Tracy Kroh?
About 25 miles outside of the state capitol of Pennsylvania is a small, riverside town called Millersburg. It's one of those rare American gems deeply rooted in family, tradition, and kindness. Life is slow and sweet there; folks take care of each other.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Criminal
Becoming Betty Whitecastle: A Queen for the Ages
Jeffrey Mitchell was Nancy Reagan the first time I saw him. I don't mean he was dressed up as Nancy Reagan. I mean that he was Nancy Reagan. The red power suit, the pearls, the sweet, soft voice dripping with ironic disapproval...Jeffrey's portrayal of the former first lady was uncanny.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Pride
2:47 AM
“Ma! Mother! Hey, Ma!” Ellie yells to me from the bottom of the bleachers where she’s standing with a few of the older girls from the squad. She stamps her foot on the pavement, hands on hips, ponytail swinging and face scrunched into a red-cheeked grimace of teenage frustration that she inherited from me. I slowly weave through the dispersing crowd towards my daughter. It had been a terrible game. This will be the third loss in a row for our boys, and the disappointment in the crisp evening air is palpable.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Fiction
Stalemate
He calls for the last time on a Sunday night in late September. His voice is soft and slurred, and before he asks I tell him that I’m not coming this time. But we both know it’s a lie. So I pull myself together as I have done many, many times before, and I drive through a chilly rain to our old spot. He’s already in our booth; ghostly, half asleep and tapping his lucky blue lighter against the Formica. The green neon light from the Seventh Street Diner sign spills across his still-handsome face.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Fiction
Jonathan
Jonathan Dryden’s red popsicle was melting. It dripped through his fat fingers and when he wiped them on the front of his faded old tee shirt it looked like blood streaks. Jonathan probably did that on purpose, though. Jonathan always did weird stuff like that.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Fiction
3 Kid-Approved Crafts for Non-Crafty Families
I am not a Crafty Mom. Oh, I'd love to be one. I've tried to be one. My efforts, sadly, are in vain, and most of my attempted projects end in tears, explicit language, and/or blood. My house is littered with the ghosts of DIY projects that I have abandoned in frustration.
By Jessica Conaway3 years ago in Families