Today I shall behave as if this is the day I will be remembered.” ~ Theodor Seuss Geisel If I had to describe my personality, I’d say I’m fairly introverted. I don’t typically go out of my way to be noticed, staying under the radar whenever possible. I’m not what I would consider memorable. That … Continue reading Today I shall behave…
Tag: writing prompt
Under the Big Top
Spinning dinner plates, balanced precariously on spindly broomsticks, wobble out of control. Multi-colored balls, handcrafted out of orphan socks, circle my head in erratic, elliptic orbits while I attempt to keep a hacky sack, stuffed with worries, suspended in the air, frantically hopping from foot to foot. My life is a circus, and I am a … Continue reading Under the Big Top
That voice again
It was exactly how it was in the movies. The accident played out in excruciatingly slow motion. From the moment Callie saw the other car rushing at her in her periphery, to the surreal impact, to her car rolling end over end like a giant, metal tumbleweed, it all happened in half time. Witnesses claimed … Continue reading That voice again
In his shoes
If I could walk in your shoes for a day, what would the voices say to me, what would the faces look like? Could I survive your reality or would I go mad? *Since his pre-teens, my son has struggled with a myriad of mental health issues. Diagnosed at age 12 with severe panic/anxiety disorder … Continue reading In his shoes
How the cookie crumbles
"You have entered the winter of your life." After reading the fortune, I wadded it up inside the cellophane the cookie came wrapped in, tossing it on my abandoned plate. Reaching for another cookie, my dinner companion tried to retrieve the first slip of paper. “Wait, what did this one say?” He pulled back his … Continue reading How the cookie crumbles
Eighth level of hell
It’s a slow awakening, floundering in a quagmire of dream sensations. Opening my eyes only makes it worse. The light sears into my brain, tightening the torturous iron bands wrapped around my head, pressing into tender temples and squeezing every rational thought out of my ears. I close my eyes again, hoping paper-thin lids are … Continue reading Eighth level of hell
Thin spiral notebook 