Remington Write
Bio
Writing because I can't NOT write.
Stories (41/0)
Distance As Measure of Time
See this wall here? This was once a hill covered with scrubby bushes. Now look at it. Perfectly fitted slabs of grey rock of different sizes but all aligned and tall. It’s a tall wall. It's a sturdy wall that gives no hint of what used to be in this place.
By Remington Write7 months ago in Fiction
Mirror, Mirror On The Ground
Billy loved living in this part of town. Mom hated it and his sisters were afraid to go out after dark. Too bad Dad hadn’t come with them. Billy bet Dad would have dug it here, too, especially the sounds of what had to be gunshots late at night. If only he knew where Dad was now. Mom wasn't talking and Darlene and Becky were as in the dark as he was even if they always acted like they knew everything.
By Remington Write7 months ago in Fiction
On This Block It's Business As Usual
This place of business isn’t always so cushy. Someone down the street tossed out that remnant of shag carpeting and the chair appeared from someone else’s trash pile. The deluxe set-up lasted a day. When I came home the next night there was a “new” chair, an office chair with one arm missing. That bit of carpeting was also missing.
By Remington Write8 months ago in Humans
Susanna and The Elders
Sotheby's likely had no idea what it was setting in motion when it chose to plaster the front of their gallery in New York City with a reproduction of Pompeo Gerolamo Batoni's take on the oft-painted and ever popular Bible story about Susanna and the Elders. The marketing poobahs probably thought that this was nothing more than the usual eye-catching promotion intended to let the deeper pockets passing in their sedans know what was coming up for auction soon.
By Remington Write8 months ago in Fiction
A Unique Solution
Concentrating, she brought the hammer down into the middle of the word Limoges and had one sweet moment of relief when the plate fell apart. At first, when the state took her kids she went for complete destruction. But that just meant that she had to clean shit up or live in piles of broken glass.
By Remington Write9 months ago in Fiction
Good Luck, Kids
There they go. The next cadre of breeding aged friends, young and filled with optimism after having had their bids on houses in New Jersey and Connecticut accepted. Young Americans ready to stake their claim to their American Dream. We’ve been getting together on Saturday mornings via Zoom for years now — ain’t that a kick in the head? — and also watching as toddlers grew into assertive little people and baby bumps into babies.
By Remington Write9 months ago in Families
I Want to Write a Song John Cale Will Cover
It was late but we were not sleepy. We'd watched two episodes of “Twin Peaks: The Return”. We had written and published a couple of new stories. I put in my twenty minutes on the stationary bike with Terry Barensten. Then my partner was tooling around listening to a bit of this and a bit of that on YouTube.
By Remington Write9 months ago in Motivation
My Old Lady Message for D.C.
It’s impossible to imagine a doddering, confused octogenarian screwing up — and screwing up really badly — on a public platform and still keeping her/his job. But at the Federal level of the government of The Greatest Country in The World, it happens frequently, and said dodderers are then routinely helped offstage and back to their cushy Washington DC offices.
By Remington Write9 months ago in The Swamp
