I got straight As that semester. I also got arrested.
Tag: Author
Green Dot Mystery: What REALLY happened at the Myrtles.
Is Myrtles Plantation really haunted? I found THIS in a library book a few days before we left. By we I mean me and Emily. Friend, fellow writer, and the only other chick I know with a selection of kaftans. I find stuff in books all the time. And though June 23rd was already behind …
Continue reading Green Dot Mystery: What REALLY happened at the Myrtles.
Short Fiction: Rosie & June Get a Room.
Rosie & June “It’s hotter’n Satan’s nutsack.” Rosie shoved a lollipop in her mouth. “Satan’s nutsack?” June glanced over from the driver seat. “Really?” Rosie shrugged, staring between tall pines, blending as they sped past. Louisiana was a convection oven, especially in summer. And they'd spent ample time unsticking thighs from leather seats since crossing state …
Beryl’s Chicken Diary: Remembering Momma.
That lady ate your mother. I closed my eyes. Missus Jenkins has no tact. I made the mistake of telling her about the last day me and Babs saw Momma. Which honestly, I try not to think about. It still hurts remembering that itchy-nosed lady and all her questions about gluten and additives. "You don't give …
BOOK LAB: Depressed. Addicted. Suicidal.
At 20, she overdosed on sleeping pills in her mother's cellar. At 29, she drove her car into a river. At 30, Sylvia Plath finally killed herself by sticking her head in an oven. Think about that a second. One night, she placed wet towels under the doors to keep her babies safe, turned on …
Beryl’s Chicken Diary. (8)
Read from the beginning HERE. ................... DAY FIFTEEN mac-n-cheese This morning I flew out of the tub and waited by the back door. Jennifer smiled super big then let me out with some fresh water and last night’s macaroni and cheese. Ollie came by and sniffed so we shared it. Then we laid …
Beryl’s Chicken Diary. (6)
Read from the beginning HERE. ................ DAY ELEVEN trapped Ol' spider finally trapped some food tonight. I’m relieved actually, she was looking a little pale. —still. Desperate buzzing is a very sad noise. That poor fly tried to escape, tangling deeper as she inched close, creeping in such a way, I felt glad to be down here. I …
