When Nora was young she allowed others to know of her difference. But many years ago she learned to keep her night-time charms to herself. Now, at 36 years, no doctors or therapists, no detectives or boyfriends could tell her what was “wrong” with her.
Absolutely nothing was wrong with her, and she kept it that way by keeping her secret to herself. Yes, she needed to be a solitary woman, but as a college professor, an opera lover, a hiker and a traveler, she could get out and about without colleagues figuring out what she was up to after midnight. Continue reading
The longer Gertie watches her mother, the more confused she is. Gertie is 6 and never knew that her mom has tears.
“Why are you crying? Gertie asks.
“Your grandmother died today,” her mom answers.
Gertie closes her eyes. Nanny is right there beside them. When she opens her eyes again, a soft yellow light grows and surrounds her mom. Continue reading
Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner
“You’ve got to do it. Let me find one for you,” Savannah suggested.
Eve rolled her eyes. “I’ve already interviewed five potential bodyguards. They were all Neanderthals.”
Eve stood, all five feet of her in her billowy blue caftan, and faced her agent. She knew Savannah thought her eccentric; but hell, that’s what authors were supposed to be. Continue reading
Judith strolled past the stores of the old town with disinterest.
“Mandy, why did you bring us here?” she moaned. “This is a virtual ghost town.” Judith surveyed the grungy bungalow-type buildings; the unkempt road; and the dearth of any human beings. If she wasn’t such a practical, no-nonsense sort of person, she’d be freaked. Continue reading
I can’t figure out why the stupid key won’t fit into the same lock I’ve used for the past 10 months.
But my key ring contains many keys – the one for the office, the one for the car, the one for the other car, and the one for the mailbox. The key for the house, of course, and the key for the storage room.
But no, I’m using the correct key- it’s the only one that has red tape on it – red tape I placed there so I’d always know which key to use when I arrived at my front door.
But still, it doesn’t fit in a rather, now that I look more closely, misshapen lock. In fact, the doorknob doesn’t even have a lock, per se, but seems more decorative than anything else.
“Oh husband-of-mine!” I shout, probably too loudly. “What did you do?” I smile a bit. I love surprises – this one is a doozy. Continue reading