At each corner, she read the street sign. She studied the shops and houses, examined the faces of passersby, searching for someone or something that looked familiar. She squeezed her brother’s hand. He was too young to remember anything except their mother. Maybe the next one, she said each time.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble.” His first novel, “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel,” was recently rereleased. Visit BobThurber.net.
He was tall, solid, heavily tattooed, an image of aggression. Even when he slept, naked, sprawled on the bed, there was a tenseness to him, a readiness to attack at the slightest provocation.
Now he was immobilized by the light touch on his belly. The spider, unaware, was also still.
Jan Owens lives in South Australia, retired from education and nursing and now happily playing with words.
Licking crumbs between high heels and cobblestones, seeing buttery flakes on ankle, her shriek demands his defensive stare.
Eye to eye, his pink tongue retreats behind bared fangs. He holds his hot breath, cringing backwards.
Her sudden smile underlines her offering: wafting smell of croissant. Eyes unlock, echoing clicking disappears.
Sabine Monn, a music and movement educator who grew up in Europe, loves to play with children, especially when she forgets her role as a mother, passionately creating within the flow of now and exchanging with others.
“There’s a monster under my bed!” whimpered Sophie.
“I know,” said Mom. “I put it there. It likes dark places.”
“Won’t it come out at night and eat me!?”
“No, it’s a vegetarian.”
Sophie put fresh heads of lettuce under her bed every day for the rest of her life.