Hansel never did like kids. They made too much noise. They had sticky fingers.
His wife pleaded, but he wouldn’t give in.
Unexpectedly, she gave birth to a blue-eyed angel. One look into those eyes and his heart melted.
He asked for his wife’s forgiveness.
Secretly, she prayed for his.
Susan Gale Wickes lives in Indiana and writes poetry, short fiction, and songs.
It wasn’t often you’d see Tillie without her broom.
From sunup to sundown she’d sweep the sidewalks, the streets, the floors of the little shack she called home.
After dark, she was nowhere to be found.
But on quiet nights, you could hear laughter as she streaked across the sky.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. Her only mode of transportation is her trusty SUV.
Every week it was a new cause. Something to fight for, believe in. Karen was always looking for a shiny new bandwagon to hop aboard.
She was at a rally when her husband packed up and headed out for greener pastures.
Turns out he needed something to believe in, too.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She spends her days crafting short stories, epigrams, poetry, and the occasional song.
Mama decided the family tree needed pruning. Sturdy branches could stay; twigs had to go.
I was flimsy. Always had been. God knows I tried to branch out.
She looked at me… a long, hard stare.
I turned away, but I could still hear the rustling of those graceful limbs.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana and has never been removed from her family tree.
Yesterday he took me to heaven.
Then he took me to the cleaners.
Strangest one-night stand ever.
“You want a beer?” I’d asked.
“No, I’m good.”
Yes, he was.
So was his accomplice.
All my valuables, gone… except for those I carried with me.
Only one of them was missing.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing and thinking about writing.
It was a problem from day one. I’d never wanted a roommate, but simply couldn’t swing the apartment any other way.
I plumped the pillows and placed them precisely in their preferred positions on the pristine couch.
Then I huddled down in my bean bag and waited for the enemy.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing short stories and poetry and has never owned a bean bag.
I couldn’t take it any longer. The subtle shaking of the head, the constant belittling, the never-ending criticisms.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he squawked.
“Give me a break.”
Truth is, I was the one to blame.
I put the cover over his cage.
Peace at last…
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing poetry and short stories.
It started out small. Just a little white lie here and there. No real damage done, right? I could stop at any time.
“Grandma, I don’t feel well. I’m not coming over today.” I went shopping instead and found a beautiful navy suit.
I’ll wear it tomorrow to her funeral.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing short stories, and always tries to tell the truth.
My pumpkin pie sat on the table, untouched.
I’d followed the directions explicitly.
I properly preheated the oven.
I took great pains with the crust.
I’d anticipated delight, feigned or otherwise, once consumed. It was not meant to be.
“Bring a dessert,” they’d said.
Turns out everybody brought pumpkin pie.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing short stories, poetry, and the occasional song.
“Take one more step and I draw.”
Six years old, he carried a toy gun and barked commands at everyone within earshot. Most days, I ignored him. I really couldn’t blame him. At his age, I’d done the same thing.
I really should have listened. That bullet nearly hit me.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She spends her days writing poetry, short stories, songs, and the occasional cartoon caption.