Tag Archives: Karin Doucette

KARIN DOUCETTE: Lost Appetite

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

When talons scratch the aluminum light pole, a clot of alarmed mallards skitters across the nearby pond. But Hawk focuses on the mammoth housing development blocking the skyline. Earth machines are stripping his meadow, releasing a feast of rodents and hares. No thanks. There’s already a lump in his throat.

Karin has published on thewritelaunch.com, fiftywordstories.com, and in The Antigonish Review. One of her short stories and a stage play were quarter-finalists in ScreenCraft’s 2023 international competitions. Born on a small Canadian island, Karin has lived/worked or travelled on every continent.

KARIN DOUCETTE: Mirage

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

See that sepia smudge on the prairie horizon? Dark town buildings shimmering with dry heat, morphing to liquid.

I want to press my tongue to it; imagine it will dampen my cheeks.

It’s visible but intangible. Scorching yet misty. Fixed yet unreachable from the direction I start from.

Like life.

Karin grew up on an island and has lived, worked, or travelled on every continent. But her inner world is where she is most at home.

KARIN DOUCETTE: Grandfather’s Communion

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

No, said mama, you cannot be a priest. Stay on the farm. So the Leghorns became Edwin’s true flock. He blessed the Holsteins and sanctified the rain falling on fields and garden. Beneath the Sistine of sunrise and sunset, the barn became his cathedral… and cheap rum his holy wine.

An Islander who has stepped, lived, and/or worked on every continent, Karin is most at home in her inner world.