Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
Molly watched and wondered. Mama always told her it was for the best. They weren’t really captives. It was for protection. They’d hurt themselves or others if they were free. But still, Molly wondered. Were they happy? Sad? Were they envious? Did they know they weren’t free? Or was mama right and they didn’t even… Continue reading For the Best
As I say below, this piece was written originally on April 9, 2020 for Sue's WritePhoto challenge. Today seemed an apt time to revisit it. Thanks to Fandango's Flashback Friday Challenge a shower of blue upon a blanket of green spring’s carillon song Thanks Sue. Visit her for details on the #writephoto challenge and other great pieces.
Am I a dreamer? Still full of hope as I yearn. Or am I a clown? Yes, says the face in the glass with your destiny foretold. Image courtesy of Forgottenx at DeviantArt I’m not sure that this piece fits perfectly into any of the challenges that inspired me today. So apologies if… Continue reading quixotic musings
Time has lost all meaning. Had it been one year? Twenty years? One hundred? More? She had stopped trying to count the days long ago. But she had believed--really believed--she'd be able to note the seasons. Hoping to mark the years. Imagining she’d be able to picture their faces as time passed. She had wanted… Continue reading Time
no more comic books or picturing his first shave no more sneaking drinks or pretending not to hear two ten main street is no more Thanks to Fandango for the thought-provoking photo. It reminded me of the sad Covid-19 reality that some things may never come back. Not sure why my mind went to barbershops, but… Continue reading his first barber
She used to worry. Why was she so unhappy? He gave her everything. Every day his people came. They made sure that every part of her body was taut and sleek and limber. Masseuses and yogis. Stylists and waxers. Doctors and manicurists. Poking and prodding. Smoothing and stretching. Watching. Then they’d go. And she’d be… Continue reading She Used To Worry
Spiders from Mars. That’s the first thing that came into her head when she saw it. Thinking of Ziggy Stardust made her smile. She’d always loved Bowie. But that thing—whatever that thing was supposed to be—most certainly did not make her smile. The assignment had been simple enough. Create an original art piece for her… Continue reading Star Crossed Lovers & The Spiders from Mars
Tina Stewart Brakebill 