Rebecca Loomis
Bio
“I write when the words won’t go away- like a hammering in my mind begging to be let out. For every dream, there’s a story waiting to be written, a world to be created.” ~ R. Loomis
Stories (4/0)
My Boy Builds Coffins
My son is a carpenter like his father before him. Every day he rises with the sun, a hammer clenched in his fist and nails stuck between his teeth. Woodcraft is his passion, the grime of dust another layer of skin. Splinters and nicks cover his fingers, but they don’t bother him. He’s used to the pain. His workshop is small but filled with the tools of his trade. Hand planes and chisels line the walls, vises and clamps are strewn about on his workbench. He knows each of them personally, an extension of his own body. Part of his very soul.
By Rebecca Loomis 2 years ago in Beat
Salt And The Sea
You hear me like no one else. I follow wherever you go. We will always be together. Our relationship started out as a trial. A little experimentation, a touch of interest. Magic was made in those moments. Never in your life had you felt so alive, so free. I was a warm blanket you could wrap up in, a cup of cocoa on a chilly night.
By Rebecca Loomis 2 years ago in Psyche
The Crosswalk
The crosswalk is stained red. Orion Baxter was crossing the road, not paying attention to the flashing orange sign, and was hit by a car. Cindy Penn swears she didn’t see him, that he appeared out of nowhere. One second the street was clear; the next Orion was another pothole. The cops tried and tried to get up the blood stains, but nothing would wash it away. So, it’s there as a reminder. A warning.
By Rebecca Loomis 2 years ago in Fiction
