Mike's driving down the two-lane highway when the transmission on his '88 camry locks up. He skids on asphalt, then on dirt, then into tall weeds growing in my rural half-acre yard. He needs help, and it's the kind of help that maybe I can give. No phone, no tools, no friends. He asks for a ride to his motor home by the lake, 30 minutes away. He tells me about his life, wife, kid. The kid died. The wife left. He loves her still, but she couldn't stay faithful through the hurt. He talks loudly about the painful parts.
The Dangling Bead
My life is splashing before my eyes, as I precariously suspend and prepare for the end, the consumption of my Self and identity. I know that gravity will be the victor in this struggle. Like a pendant, slipping from the chain, the tension has caught me in this moment, bestowing one last gift of reflection. I cling desperately, questioning my purpose. Searching for comfort. And I remember…
By Leslie Staven7 days ago in Fiction
Lifting the Curtain to a Successful Month
April has been a fantastic month for me in terms of writing endeavors. I’d like to share what’s been so great about it just as many other writers would do. Share successes. I’ve noticed other writers or artists have shared successes and when you just see the snippet of their success, it appears everything has been going right for them all along. But we haven’t seen behind the curtain, we haven’t seen their hard work and their failures and those months that were fraught with disappointment. In everyone’s case, it’s far from the truth. But for the outside observer it isn’t always apparent.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile4 days ago in Writers
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