Fiction

It wasn’t the first time I died, and it wasn’t the last, but it would always be the hardest

Photo courtesy of google creative commons

Dear Trusted Friends and Readers,

In my younger days, before I was brave enough to publish my first word, Tala was there in my head, begging me to tell her story. At first she whispered to me, a curious hum in the back of my head, telling me of strong women, giving me a peek of bravery in the mundane, showing me the honor of trusting loyal friends.

In recent years, Tala has nagged, stabbed, scratched, pleaded, petitioned, poked, seduced, rattled, rocked, and screamed at me to bring her story to life.

So every morning, I pull back the curtain…


Better writing

If the ancient Sumerians could do it, you can, too

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Did you know about the snazzy token system our ancient ancestors created to keep track of sales and debts? They made tokens out of clay and used them as a unit of measure. A sphere represented grain, an egg was used for oil, and so on.

The accountants of the time carried their tokens around in clay baskets and after a few thousand years of lugging around heavy baskets, someone had the bright idea to press a token against the outside of the container. …


Let not the bitter wind chill your heart

Photo by Ray Hennessy on Unsplash

I sit here at my desk, concentration eluding me as I look out the window and pine for Spring and the joy of Mother Earth’s rebirth.

I’m wishing she comes sooner than the thirty-odd days the calendar shows me but I know she’ll get here when she gets here, and wishing her sooner makes no difference to the ill-tempered winds of Old Man Winter.

Here in southwestern Ohio, there’s snow on the ground and frigid air above it. A hateful wind beats seven degrees of air into the slow burn of negative numbers and shrieks in its delight of finding…


Lois Jenson was just trying to earn a decent living….

Image from mesabitribune.com

“You … women don’t belong here. If you knew what was good for you, you’d go home, where you belong.”

Lois Jenson made her decision as she slammed her locker door. The nooses hanging over work stations, the sexual innuendoes, the leers, jeers, open threats, obscene language, exposure to hard-core pornography, clothes kept in their lockers marked with the filthy ejaculate of low-browed co-workers, all of it piled onto her narrow shoulders and she knew it had to end.

The final straw was the union siding with management and refusing to intervene after her supervisor maliciously assaulted her.

“He grabbed…


Fiction

Bobby, Again

Photo Courtesy of images.freecreatives.com

Clyde’s garage was off Cincinnati-Dayton Road in Bethany. I live in Blue Ash, so I traveled north to get to Clyde’s shop. I never mind the twenty minute drive. I cranked the blue tooth and listened to Zeppelin II. Music is life.

The scenery in southwestern Ohio in mid-June is gorgeous, on par with some of the most beautiful in the country. I drove over rolling countryside with a bright blue sky above me and a big yellow ball of fire warming the late spring day.

Clyde lives on a working farm, and he hides his garage within a huge…


Be always grateful for them all

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Friends come in all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, genders, and species, and if only we open our minds and hearts, we can find them everywhere.

A friend can lift you up, hold you down, turn you around, make you smile, make you cry, give you peace, give you support, shake you up, wake you up, comfort your soul, and hold your heart.

But most of all, a friend makes you recognize the good in yourself and in others around you.

A couple days ago, I checked in on three of my favorite writers and…


Time

Hahahahahahahahaha

Photo by Kama Tulkibayeva on Unsplash

A friend asked me the other day if I’d like to be 25 again. I laughed. Um, hell no, I don’t want to be 25 again, you couldn’t pay me enough money in the world.

I would, however, like to look 25 again.

I want to live forever. Twenty-five was just the first bump in the road to greatness. I flew past that milestone and then jumped right into 40 as gracefully as a robin landing on the high line wire next to a squirrel.

Next was 50, and then 55, and now, 57, when my body fell apart. But…


Fiction

Bobby

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

Bobby Ross was my high school sweetheart. He and I were best friends in grade school and then we fucked it all up by sleeping with each other. I don’t know what I was thinking; I guess I was lonely. And scared. My family fell apart when my mom died, I just didn’t know the fracture from her brutal death would evolve into a full-on break within a few short years. My father was lost without my mom, even more than me. …


Fiction

Clyde

Photo courtesy of google creative commons

Hank acted like nothing more than a regular dog since that day in the park in Cincinnati. No more words in my head, no stopping of time, no hazy heat waves rising around us. He was just a dog.

But oh, what a dog!

He was all shepherd, double-coated with soft and shaggy fur unfurling down his neck, a black saddle draped over a salt and pepper coat, and a long, bushy tail. …


. amFiction

Hank

It wasn’t the first time I died, and it wasn’t the last, but it would always be the hardest

Photo courtesy of google creative commons

I’d appreciate your feedback on this entry. Please, be honest, let me know if you’re interested in reading more, or if it’s a dud. Thanks, friends!

I woke to the sun, same as always. I never need an alarm, no matter the season, my eyes opening to the sun and closing when the moon is high in the sky. This morning was no different and as the first light of the day drifted into my room, Hank snuggled closer to me, sniffing my neck, and thumping his ridiculously long tail against my bare leg.

I sighed as I ran my…

Sterling Page

Considering liver condition but throwing caution to the wind for worthy causes, casting long nets for big dreams, writing all about it.

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