Author Archives: susan

Word Count:  388 Timothy had never been in the attic. His mother said it was filled to the rafters with goblins that ate little boys. He tried once. The door was of course locked and he never thought about going … Continue reading →

From our own indefatigable Dorothee Lang, some questions at the half-way mark to this 100 Days Project that binds us together… 1.) From your own works so far, which day is your personal favourite? #004/2012  “I’m Fast” without a doubt … Continue reading →

Word Count:  210 His wife was a woman who believed in cliches. Before he could stop her she’d bit off her tongue, shot herself in the foot, and given her right arm away. She cut off her nose just in … Continue reading →

Word Count:  338 He was old so nobody really listened. After a long sentence broken by blips of word-searching they snickered. Rich old white man. What does he know? Is he senile? they asked one another. Rolled their eyes. Giggled … Continue reading →

Word Count:  378 I wanted to grow up to be a ballerina. Bobby next door wanted to grow up to be an oak tree. I never reached my goal but Bobby did. My mother enrolled me in dance class and … Continue reading →

Word Count:  235 Tell your doctor if you experience hair loss, dizziness, loss of appetite, yellowing of skin or eyes… That was her, the yellowing of skin or eyes. That was the side effect she’d had from the arthritis medication … Continue reading →

Word Count:  197 Brothers. Sometimes close, sometimes not. Depends on how big a pain in the ass the younger one is growing up. Teddy was a whiner. Three years younger, a span that hits hard on bedtimes, toys without small … Continue reading →

Word Count:  362 Like a moth, alit on the windowsill, ready to fly into the warm air of another summer Saturday night. With a little jump, she lands on the dewy grass of the back lawn. Lets her robe shimmer … Continue reading →

Word Count:  437 “Not too tight,” she said, though it was useless. The rule was, when she turned herself over to him, he could do whatever he wanted. She hated it. Pretended to love it. It was his thing, not … Continue reading →

Word Count:  477 Mercy lived in terror that someday her four year-old son would kill her. From the day he was born, dragging his tiny fetal fingernails along the birth canal as he dug his heels in to push himself … Continue reading →