If only Mombo had not disappeared. If only the best Nanny I had from babyhood ‘til 14 years of age had stuck around for my high school graduation. For my college graduation. And how about my doctorate celebration?
Of course, my doctorate thesis is “The Disappearance of Octopuses from 2100 to …?” Continue reading
I’m enervated and enthusiastic as I return home after meeting with some of my writing besties for lunch. Ah, the stories we share!
Smiling, I park in the garage, gather my purse and lunch leftovers, and open the door into my home, ready for a hot cuppa tea.
But then I stop as if an anchor is placed on my ankles. Something is wrong, or at least not right. I feel a subtle shift in the house. Yes, a shift.
Occasionally, I get this sensation; after all, a house is not a static object. It’s full of wood and plaster and beams and then walls and ceilings that absorb all the inhabitants’ moods and pains and joys and … I suppose some may think I’m weird. But living space is alive with energetic cells released by each of us. Continue reading
Katy searched for the correct way to reject the invitation. She was not inclined to meet Adam at midnight and drive to the open field 20 minutes away to see some famous “shooting star.” 
Adam was a nice colleague, good-looking in an academic, black-glasses-hiding-thick-black-eyebrows kind of way, with a shy smile. Katy could tell he was interested in her. He acted as if she was a fairy princess who lit up a room whenever she entered. Continue reading
The day is dark, as in pitch black, and it’s only 5 p.m. I’ve had a full day – yoga and meditation at 6 a.m., 500 words for my short story by 8 a.m., dance class by 9, grocery shopping by 10:30. I baked cookies for the neighbor and prepared a casserole for dinner.
Now, I peer longingly at the claw-footed bathtub in my master bathroom and think – “yes, I deserve this.” Continue reading
When Julie opened the cover of the ancient book in the attic, the first page glowed opal, and letters began to float off the page, circling her like fairy dust. (Part I, The Ancient Book)
Julie should have been afraid, closed the book, and raced down the narrow ladder, quickly closing that attic ceiling door.
But instead her body relaxed as dozens of those letters surrounded her and buzzed like happy bees. The sweet soft buzzzzzz turned to whisperings from Spirits long gone and still here. Continue reading
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