Rae Fairchild (MRB)
Bio
I love to write; putting pen to paper fills my heart and calms my soul!
Rae Fairchild is my pen name. (Because why not? Pseudonyms are cool!)
I do publish elsewhere under my real name, Mary Rae Butler. (Fairchild, an old family surname.)
Stories (68/0)
Tombette
After my mother died, I began to bury things in small places. I folded her hand-written recipe for cornbread and oyster stuffing deep inside the oil-stained pages of my cookbook. I recorded old spiritual songs she used to sing in the strings of the out-of-tune piano in our front room. I tucked an empty glass bottle of Poison, her favorite perfume, in the corner of my sock drawer. But most of all I buried memories in my mind. Of baking Christmas cookies while the snow drifted down outside the kitchen window. Of running my hands through the rich black soil of the garden as we planted cucumber seeds. Of her fingers stroking my temples as I listened to her read the Harry Potter series out loud to me.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)6 months ago in Fiction
The Seamstress's Shop: a sestina poem
This poem was written in response to the Rattle® Poetry Ekphrastic Challenge for August 2023 and was ultimately not selected. You can find more information here. https://www.rattle.com/ekphrastic/ The image that this poem was specifically written about can be found here. (August 2023 – Lily Prigioniero’s “Seamstress”) https://i0.wp.com/www.rattle.com/ekphrasis/EC23Aug.jpg?ssl=1
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)8 months ago in Poets
Hidden Amongst the Cattails
The words of a nearly one-month-old newspaper headline screamed across the page, its bold letters seething with anger. “Prominent St. James figure accused of sexual abuse: former alter boys speak out on allegations from decades past!” A picture of my younger brother John smiled from underneath it. I just stared down at it as I felt a nauseous feeling twinge in my stomach. I slid the top newspaper off the pile and saw another headline just like it. “Prominent town figure also led Boy Scout troop: former members allege abuse there as well.” I slid that paper off to the side too.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)8 months ago in Chapters
Examining My First Story
The recent fairytale challenge on Vocal had me digging deep into my computer’s memory to find a story that I wrote almost twenty years ago. It was a short story about a young girl who finds a coin in her washing machine on a very hot summer day. She makes a wish on it and it comes true; the temperature drops by twenty degrees! With a second load of laundry, she finds another coin in the machine and makes a wish on that one as well. That second wish is for an awesome thirteenth birthday.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)8 months ago in Writers
A Children's Book Called Sister Anne's Hands
“Roses are red, violets are blue. Don’t let Sister Anne get any black on you.” Decades later, I can still remember that line. It comes from the children’s book Sister Anne’s Hands, written by Marybeth Lorbiecki and beautifully illustrated by K. Wendy Popp. My mother would always read to me when I was little and this book was one of her favorites. I didn’t have an epiphany at six years old when it was first read to me. And as an adult, I didn’t have an epiphany either when I re-read it to write this piece. It is hard to say that this book “changed me.” Rather, I would call this story a stepping-stone on the path that I try and walk today, its poignant message carried well past the age of reader the pages are targeted towards.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)8 months ago in BookClub
Spotlight
This poem was written in response to the Rattle® Poetry Ekphrastic Challenge for July 2023 and was ultimately not selected. You can find more information here. https://www.rattle.com/ekphrastic/ The image that this poem was specifically written about can be found here. (July 2023 – Elizabeth Hlookoff's “Here I Go”) https://i0.wp.com/www.rattle.com/ekphrasis/EC23July.jpg?ssl=1
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)8 months ago in Poets
The Washing Bucket That Was a Wishing Well
The sun beat down on Elizabeth’s back as she plunged the paddle into the dirty clothes sitting in the wooden washing bucket. With a great heave of her shoulders, she hoisted up the kettle of hot water off the fire and carefully tipped the water into the bucket. Grabbing the paddle, she spun the laundry around, turning it over, before throwing in a few handfuls of grated soap. Her younger brother William sat in the shady shadow of an oak tree, leaning against its trunk. He hummed as he grated more soap for the washing, his bare feet scrunching up the green grass. Sweat dripped from Elizabeth’s brow as steam rose up to her face.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)9 months ago in Fiction
Aliens: A Critique
Ripley’s second round with the xenomorph has it all! ACTION PACKED! Badass colonial marines, cute kid, weird robot guy. And of course monsters, more monsters. Bigger and badder. Ripley in Caterpillar Power Loader exoskeleton machine fights massive alien queen. Best sequel ever made. Dare I say, better than the original?
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)9 months ago in Critique
The Eyes are Mightier Than the Mouth
This poem was written in response to the Rattle® Poetry Ekphrastic Challenge for June 2023 and was ultimately not selected. You can find more information here. https://www.rattle.com/ekphrastic/ The image that this poem was specifically written about can be found here. (June 2023 – Judith Fox’s “Untold Stories”) https://i0.wp.com/www.rattle.com/ekphrasis/EC23Jun.jpg?ssl=1
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)9 months ago in Poets
- Top Story - August 2023