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
“Hold on to your hat, Stephen,” Harriet warns. “You’re about to discover how little you know.” https://roughwighting.net/2024/07/19/a-humdinger-of-a-ghost-story/
In an irritated, and yes, arrogant tone, Stephen responds, “I know you’ve created drama where there is none. My mom, your supposed best friend, was extremely successful. She was a famous literary novelist. I think you rode on her coattails and now that mom is dead, you want to ride some more. You want to write her books, make money, and gain success on the back of her death!” Continue reading
“Why don’t you and I work together – starting with your mom’s first three chapters – and write the ghost’s story,” Harriet suggests. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a humdinger.” https://roughwighting.net/2024/07/05/ghost-writer/
“A what?” Stephen asks. As a 36-year-old investment analyst with an appetite for math but none for words, he has no idea what his mom’s best friend is talking about. But she’s old, at least 60, so that’s par for the course. Continue reading
I’d never flown by tub before. Usually, I take off on my own. Well, almost on my own.
The first time I realized I had this capability was when I was 3 years old. I woke up in the middle of a full-moon night and saw a flickering being fluttering above me. Immediately I knew her – my little angel.
I called her Sweetie. Continue reading
My grandmother, Nanny, died when I was 5, but I loved her with all my young heart. Even as a kindergartener, I could tell she was a gentle, kind, sweet, loving soul.
Since she died, I’ve talked to her in my head every so often, but she’s never visited me in my dreams. So, imagine my surprise when I wake up from a dream at four this morning with Nanny speaking urgently to me: “It’s behind the backyard at 525 Cramston. Go!” Continue reading
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