Pamela Walsh-Holte
Bio
Retired social worker seaking to find my name among the "Chreators we are Loving", but alas it has not been so. Be still my heart, do not despair, your day may come...Until then I wait, anticipating some, be it ever so slight, recognition.
Achievements (1)
Stories (70/0)
"2023"
Aliens, cripteds. Covid19, it's surreal. Twenty- twenty-three.
By Pamela Walsh-Holteabout a year ago in Poets
Sand Dollar
The sand under her feet warmed with each step as she walked along the beach searching in vain for the elusive sand dollar that had littered the beaches when she was a child. How is it then that she has been unable to find even the smallest one just years later. Were had they gone? She was always intrigued by what she felt was one of the creators perfect creations. She still finds wonder today, as she had as a child, for the five little birds found inside the sand dollars. How perfect they are, who would have thought these treasures could be resting inside of a sea creature only to be found after that creatures life had ended.
By Pamela Walsh-Holteabout a year ago in Motivation
Reset
Arhhhhhhg.....is my first reaction to the words that stare boldly back at me from the screen! They glare at me as if they excite in the idea of what is to come, challenging me to get past their barricade that refuses to let me access my account. Why does this always happen at a time when I don't have any and I need access NOW! I try again... OMG... please, please, please, open! Nope, try again.. and I do, to no avail.
By Pamela Walsh-Holteabout a year ago in Psyche
"The Vacuum of Space"
"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space", or so they say. Contemplating this she thought, does this mean a scream makes no noise if released in a vacuum of space? She concluded that it's the silent screams that are the loudest! Well it is for her anyway!
By Pamela Walsh-Holte2 years ago in Journal
Next Stop..
The rhythmic sound of the rolling wheels and the gentle yet purposed sensation of movement lulled her to a dream state. She was dreaming she was on a train anticipating arriving at an un-named destination. She sat engulphed by the landscape and it's everchanging shades of greens, golds, and browns, a nostalgic farm house here and there dotted the landscape. How beautiful, how peaceful it all is she thought. She sat content taking it all in. This was the first peace she had experienced in quite a while.
By Pamela Walsh-Holte2 years ago in Fiction