My eyes are empty, round voids in their place. So weak, I’m shaking But I won’t slow down my pace. There are two small humans that depend on me, So despite little sleep, I maintain energy. Four little eyes, two different shades of blue Seeing the world as if it’s brand new. “Give me kisses,” one says, puckering strawberry lips. The other reaches up tiny hands to be carried on the hip. “Go faster!” one shouts as I push him in the swing. The other giggles gleefully at his brother’s bravery. It’s been two days since my last shower, But they’ll have their bath every night on the hour. Their bellies I’ll fill, sippy cups handed out, And before IRead more
We’d had the cat less than a week. She and Milo, the dog, were still getting used to each other. He often had to tip toe over her as she scrambled around his feet and chased after his tail. She was certainly living up to her name: Shadow. It’s hard to get used to a creepy little ball of black shooting out from dark corners while I carry a stack of folded laundry down the hallway. Many a stack found itself up-heaved onto the floor as I scrambled to dodge the clawed, fanged furball that detached from the shadows, attacked whatever flesh she could reach, then retreating before I could register what happened. She was still kinda cute, despite the pointed razors atRead more
The #1 way to make this year the best one ever is actually quite simple. For most people, January means a fresh start. A new opportunity to make new changes, to improve, to break chains. To make resolutions and for once, stick to them. According to Forbes, only 8% of people actually achieve their New Year’s Resolution goals. I’ve most certainly been in that 92% that … well … failed. My biggest resolution failures have been in areas I’m most passionate about. Shouldn’t that mean I have plenty of motivation to follow through? I mean, how hard is it really to lose that extra 10 pounds? (News flash: It’s HARD.) I mean, finishing that novel and submitting to agents/publishers won’t be that difficultRead more
I had always wanted a cat. I wanted a sweet, warm lap cat that would fight for my attention and curl up next to me, purring while I wrote stories. I envied my friend Crystal for her gorgeous tuxedo kitty named Felix. If I could have cloned him for myself, I would have. My husband was not keen on adopting a cat, however. We already had a dog and two kids. That was plenty for us. Plus, litter boxes. Yuck. Little did I know how my luck would turn one Wednesday in 2014. Caleb was only eight months old. Wesley was three. We had just dropped my husband, Kris, back off at work after meeting him for lunch. I was headed upRead more
Contest entry: for short story competition, 99 words or less. The dirt floor was cold and a draft breezed through his threadbare tunic. In the pitch blackness, a low growl rumbled. It reverberated in his chest and sent sharp chills up his spine. He gagged on the putrid odor of urine and blood. Sweeping sounds of pacing beasts and wet smacks of hungry jaws echoed in the shadows. Moist heat blasted his face as a sliver of light illuminated razor-sharp fangs. Trapped in a den of starving lions, he did what any man void of fear would do. He began to sing.