I’m trying desperately to avoid the knocking.
At first I thought it was the sound of one of “my” hummers knocking on the bedroom window. All summer I’d watched the hummingbirds sprint around our feeder hanging just outside the window, their long thin pointy tongues drawing sweet water out of the teeny tiny hole meant to mimic the center of a flower.
But it’s now December, the hummers have sensibly flown to warmer climes, and I’m here staring out at the window, listening to the knock on glass. But nothing is across from me on the other side of the window but falling snow. Sighing, I cross the room to my antique dresser, the one that belonged to my great-grandmother, who died years before I was born. I stand before the large oval mirror joined at the top of the dresser and framed with mahogany. Yes, there she is. Great-Grandmamma, tapping her fingernail on the other side of the speckled mirror, waiting impatiently. Continue reading
All six writers received the invitation on the same day and immediately called each other: “Are you going? Will you bring your ingredient?”
As instructed, not one writer told the other what she was requested to bring.
On Halloween night, a round iron pot sat in the center of the library conference table where the writers met once a week. Joellen splashed in two quarts of Diet Coke. Danielle measured and added a tablespoon of vinegar. Continue reading
“I’m not sure this is possible,” she says to me in a not altogether nice way. In fact, she’s rather blunt.
“Pleeese?” I plead. “I heard that you’re the best. I wasn’t even sure how to find you. I Googled first, of course, but no answer appeared about how to locate someone with your skills.”
She rolls her large, turquoise eyes. Continue reading
It all began with the hummingbirds, sir.
Yes, Mr. Grant, I’m serious. I awoke in plenty of time to get to work by 8:30, but as I got out of bed, I heard a noise outside and peered out my window.
No, not my boyfriend’s window. I was home. I have a hummingbird feeder located right outside my bedroom window, and the hummers come every early morning and then at dusk.
I’m trying to tell you what this has to do with the fact that I was two hours late, sir, I am getting to the story. Continue reading
The chimes persisted. As I tossed and turned in my bed, sheets askew, a sheen of sweat layered on my body, I really couldn’t tell if I was imaging the tiny tinkling sounds, or if they truly existed.
I’d watched the clock sneak slowly across its yellow-lit globe: 1:01 a.m., 1:10, 1:21, 1:44, 2:01, knowing I should make my eyes stay shut. Surrender to sleep like a bear surrenders in his winter cave. But I felt more like a fox, wide awake in the sleeping hour, needing to explore and hunt in the starry night. Continue reading