I live in a seaside New England village and am trying to become the writer I always wanted to be. I focus on writing short stories and personal essays and I hope you enjoy my efforts. Likes and tips are very encouraging.
The Hostess With The Mostest
“You’re not going to believe this,” Stelle announced, looking up from her computer at the kitchen table. Since Dan was involved in the intricacies of installing a new fan into their range hood, Stelle was addressing herself to his headless torso. She thought she detected a grunt of interest so she stood up and moved into closer proximity. “My mother is doing HostelHost!” she shouted at him.
Lumpy Mashed Potatoes
I don’t have any early cuddly memories of my mother’s cooking, because while she had innate skills that were demonstrated on mostly rare occasions, our dinner times were not Norman Rockwell gatherings of the family unit. My father came home later than my friends' fathers; their fathers seemed to turn into the driveways on our street around 5:00 pm and the families were sitting down around 5:30 to a meal the mother had prepared during the day.
A Nature Study In The Woods
It was early morning on the second day of their long weekend getaway. The first day hardly counted since they got in late and managed only to put away the groceries, grill a couple of burgers, and go to bed . The bed wasn’t the best, Monica reflected. Who has a double bed in this day and age? But, if the bed was any larger, there wouldn’t even be room for the one small chest that was the only other furniture in the bedroom. Hugh had described his family’s cabin as ‘rustic’ but ‘primitive’ was more apt.
Diogenes In New England
“Emily! Over here. Now.” Phil’s voice had a quiet urgency. Emily stopped picking through the basket of costume jewelry, looked up and tried to locate him in the dim afternoon light that suffused the old barn. When she couldn’t find him, she considered that instead of coming from inside the derelict structure, his voice must have come from outside and he had exited to wait by the car. She sighed and reluctantly let go of the scarab bracelet that seemed like a good buy.
The Witch Of Cumberland Ave.
When I first saw Mrs. Moore she had a colander on her head and was wearing a green plastic trash bag poncho. She was on a rickety old ladder cleaning out the gutters of her dilapidated house. I congratulated myself on my good fortune — she appeared to be engrossed in her project and her back was towards me as I was attempting to stealth-walk past her front fence without being noticed. I was premature in my celebration as it turns out.
Whimper, Not Bang
The most surprising thing to everyone turned out to be how mundane the end of the world was. You would think that an alien invasion from outer space, complete with reptilian Masters of the Universe equipped with laser emitting talons would have been more fraught, and frankly, more dramatic.
Mrs. Lovelock And The Iroquois Blanket
“Boy, I think my five year old could do better than these figures,” said the Antiques Caravan Anonymous Appraiser, eyeing the textile. “Tell us again how you came to have this piece.”
Meghan and Harry in 20/20 Hindsight
I think it’s absolutely wonderful that Meghan Markle and Harry Windsor managed to find each other in this big crazy world and unite in a marriage obviously fueled by love and mutual admiration; it took incredible courage on both sides. It was so clearly a Cinderella story which captured the imagination of any romantic on either side of the pond.