These are stories I've written. More or less. Well, I definitely wrote them, and they're definitely fiction, but they may or may not qualify as stories.
I was seekin' to sun myself on a tropical beach with an exquisite tropical drink in my hand, preferably served by a younger tropical gentleman. Instead, I found myself sittin' on a desolate island with a coconut. And my soon-to-be ex-husband, of course.
(October 17, 2009)
Years pass. Opportunities are lost. People find themselves trapped in the cycles they, themselves, create. Eventually, problems multiply. For some, the weight of it all becomes too much.
(October 13, 2009)
I don't need easy words because I'm a great speller, so I'll be OK. I'm a great speller, just like my dad. I'm gonna make him proud.
(August 18, 2009)
Dean accepts these criticisms with a loving smile because he's not here to please Mama Mia. He's here to make me look good. He'd never say it, but I know. I'm here because I have nowhere else to go.
(August 8, 2009)
An old quarter, a new dime, four pennies and a silver dollar, handed to her by one of the many nameless faces she interacts with each day.
(January 26, 2005)
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