The story of the week for March 16 to 20 is…
Offering by Melody Leming-Wilson
ERIN APPENZELLER: Living Ghost
The worst kind of haunting is when the ghost isn’t dead.
Last I heard, you were halfway across the world and still breathing. But I still feel you here. Sometimes I can hear you rattling chains. I think I see you floating through my walls. And everything’s out of place.
Erin Appenzeller is by day an English major and by night also an English major. She has never lived in a house without a few ghosts and is full of both bees and stories.
LISA CHAMBERS: Letting Go
He admired her longingly from across the room. Just the two of them. Summoning his nerve, heart pounding, he approached.
His beloved wife… Hair freshly styled, makeup applied just so, hands neatly folded. Those blue eyes that once saw only him, now surveying Heaven’s expanse.
“You’re home, Angel. Rest well.”
Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl who enjoys writing.
KIMBERLY PARISH DAVIS: The Contract Fulfilled
Puddles and poo everywhere.
Mom had no business getting a puppy. Now she’s gone, and the vet says her tiny guardian’s kidneys are packing up.
Princess is only three years old. Did she have some heavenly contract to fulfill? Is she released from responsibility, to fade back into the ether?
Kimberly Parish Davis directs Madville Publishing, and across genres. Her work can be found in various literary journals, both online and off, including The Helix, Flare: The Flagler Review, époque press, Jerry Jazz Musician, and Flar. See more at kpdavis.com.
JENNIFER L FREED: While My Brother is Having an MRI
______to see whether the cancer
has also leapt to his brain,
my husband drives wintery roads,
bringing one of our daughters
to a birthday party. The dog
wags at the door, eager
for his walk, and the plow
leaves another ridge of icy snow
at the end of our driveway.
Jennifer L Freed mostly writes poems, which have appeared in various journals and anthologies. See more at her website, jfreed.weebly.com.
DAVID LOWIS: Lasting Impression
In the years after Luke left, Daisy’s recollections of their relationship fragmented. Like dandelion seeds caught in the breeze, superfluous memories were whisked away, leaving her just a lone stem to examine. His essence. Had he been the person she thought she knew?
She wondered how she’d been so blind.
David Lowis is a fledgling writer from Surrey, England.
PERRY McDAID: The Answer
It wasn’t the diagnosis of strangled bowel, nor the low survival chance to vital surgery that tore at his heart.
It wasn’t the palpable frailty of his hero, his mother, hooked up to machines, though these things were traumatic.
No, it was those five words: Can I come home now?
Absorbing the Donegal hills from distance only now, Perry McDaid’s creativity subsists on nature’s palette and scents. Unfortunately this sometimes involves silage.
PAUL HOCK: Gastogne’s Last Review
Wild Edibles Cafe. We’ll see if they’ve improved.
Meadow Salad: two-stars, fresh but terrible dressing
Venison: one-star, overcooked
Wild Mushrooms: five-stars, delicate, flavourful, delicious
Wine: two-star, bland
Dessert: one-star, horrible
Gastogne’s last review was under his obituary.
The restaurant owner reflected as he read. Ironic that he loved the mushrooms.
Paul Hock is an author, songwriter, and storyteller from Ontario, Canada. See more at paulhockpublishing.com.
SUSAN GALE WICKES: Neither Snow Nor Rain…
It had been two years since Olivia’s world fell apart.
Two years since she mailed Adam the letter.
Two years of waiting for a reply.
Then, one day, the letter simply reappeared in her mailbox…
“INSUFFICIENT POSTAGE”
Sadly, she placed it on the desk, right next to Adam’s wedding invitation.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing short stories and cartoon captions, but she rarely writes a letter.
MELODY LEMING-WILSON: Offering
Her first tattoos were memorials. Then an image, then a symbol of sobriety. Each enriches her story. She embellishes her canvas with great care; her children are amused but shrug.
She is making a burning bowl of her skin.
One day everything she is will rise into the morning sky.
Melody Leming-Wilson teaches poetry in Portland, Oregon. She is about ready for a new tattoo.