Part One: Arrival Birdy trailed a teabag through lukewarm water. Her granddaughter Missy, recently back from nursing school, held up a large cell phone: on it, a skeleton of a human, its joints lit up like jellyfish. “Osteoarthritis,” Missy said solemnly. “Damage in the place where two bones come together.” Birdy looked out the window
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The judge Jam smeared and restless, the judge banged his gavel. “Order! Order in the court!” The agitated spectators filling the pews on either side of the aisle fell quiet. A few more bangs of the gavel because the judge liked the sharp noise. Time to bring out the accused. The courtroom was brilliant white.
Shadows of deep crimson enveloped the landscape, like a blanket of thin fog. All was mostly visible, but the only thing that one could truly see was the neon and faint aura of a single lonely building. A sign flickered just off of the russet-coloured road on which he stood, which simply read “DINER” in
Outside my window the wind is murmuring. The diaphanous curtain floats in the breeze. The curtain is ethereal in its movements Accompanied by the dulcet tones of a violin The sweet fragrance of pancakes drifts through the air I burrow deeper into my bed, not yet ready to start the day About The
Introduction: I was extremely fortunate to have met with Diana Morita Cole, Author of Sideways: Memoir of a Misfit in the fall of 2019 to discuss everything from her book and writing practices to life experiences and philosophies. It goes without any shadow of a doubt that Diana’s words of self-care practices, of overcoming doubts
Here we go again… Those 6 glory days between Christmas and New Years day have officially passed, which means that it’s time to put down the gingersnaps and pick up the slack. By the drop of a hat yet another year has passed, and many of us are facing those daunting “New Year, new me!”
Mrs. Baker had never before thought of silence nor detected the subtle melodies that emanate from it. She’d never noticed its whisper and burble, its tranquil rush and swell, nor been able to feel the texture and fluidity of the millions of motes of sound that compose it. She’d never perceived how it sweeps and