A Nonprofit Publisher Established In 1976
Writers Showcase
Sign up for our Storyhouse Weekly Reader. Click here to see a list of back issues.
Have a story you'd like to post? You don't have to enter a contest to do so. Here's how...
Want to publish a full length book manuscript? We can help! Click here.
|
News From Our Writers |
Rules, Deadlines, etc. |
How done? How long? |
Winners Circle Winners |
|
Questions?
Contact us! |
 Nonprofit Accountability HQ--See our full listing. |
Scroll
down to see recent stories.
. . . Sarah and her friends often went camping on the weekends. They were young, recently graduated from high school, and the town they lived in provided little to do for people who were not yet of drinking age. However, the high desert hills of Arizona provided a myriad of ways to get away and get lost. There were back roads that would take you to other small mountain mining towns hundreds of miles away. Sarah and her friends loved this one particular camping spot by a creek with a fire pit in the center of pine trees, that seemed to form a circle. . . .
A simple gold band. Given with unconditional love on our wedding day. With a promise to care for one another in sickness and in health. Until death do us part. Little did we know then, that our vows spoken years ago, would be taken literally years later. . . .
When I was seven years old my family made the move to a smaller, more rural town in western Canada.
Our house was settled right in front of a forest where people would frequently go walking or hiking, and the trails led deep into the woods and up to lookouts and other interesting areas.
Growing up here I've had quite a few encounters with wild animals. . . .
The forest held its breath as we moved through the golden light of late afternoon, our boots whispering against the carpet of fallen leaves. I was seventeen that autumn, still new to the vast wilderness of New Brunswick, and every excursion with Michial, my host father, felt like stepping into another world. . . .
This is a story about baseball and about Willie Mays, one of baseball's greatest center fielders. It's also about kindness and faith in your fellow humans. It's going to take a little while to get to that second part, so I ask for your patience. I'll get there. . . .
I was blessed to spend the first twenty years and more working alongside and with my father. He was a commercial waste hauler. He taught me how to work. He taught me how to treat other people. He taught me honesty. Most importantly he was one thing a lot of my friends growing up did not have. He was there for me. . . .
I enjoyed living in the Gazi Bay town, at the South Coast of Mombasa. The Swahili dishes, rich culture and proximity to the sea filled me with joy each day. While staying there, I decided to make a habit of taking a stroll each evening, right at sunset. The air in that coastal village always carried the scent of salt and mangroves. I used to stroll through a familiar route that cut across some green labyrinth of white mangrove.
One particular afternoon, I decided to take a different path. . . .
. . . .I have never had a cat as a pet. For the first twenty-nine years of my life I had never seen a domestic cat. And so when I was six years old a peripatetic part-time fortune-teller predicted that sometime in my future a cat would save my life, all my family members at that table having a tea-break were skeptically and dismissively amused. . . .
Several days ago I had the privilege of stumbling upon a nest of baby cottontails. Although having fur, the ears were short and they were blind.
Leaving them be, only checking their progress occasionally, we verified that the mother was feeding them during the night by leaving twig patterns on the nest. Over the days, she seemed to leave the yard later and later in the morning until one day she did not leave at all. . . .
After dropping off my husband Andrew at his work headquarters, I decided to drive the rental car to Central Park and check out the Japanese Garden. This was our first trip to San Mateo, California so I wanted to explore and had the luxury to do so on my husband's work trip. I felt grateful for such an experience. . . .
Things you don't want to see while driving at 100 kilometres per hour down a major highway in Tasmania: a humongous Huntsman spider running around the dashboard of your car.
I've been going to the Kruger Park for as long as I can remember (my mom still has some of my sightings lists in my round, baby handwriting and superbly creative spelling) but it's only recently that I've discovered its best kept secret.
This story expresses how I learned and taught about the cultures, traditions, music and religions of people from around the world. Through experiencing an unplanned event I made new friendships and came to realize that through modern technology, the world in which we live is truly a small world! . . .
My apprenticeship in cabinet making had included a fair few hours of learning the finishing side of the trade. Using and learning about stains, grain filler, linseed oil, shellac, and spraying lacquer were all part of my work week.
After working in a small country workshop for several years, I landed a position in a larger shop in Cambridge, not as a cabinetmaker as I had hoped, but as a finisher of the work of the other, more experienced, men in the shop. . . .
BittenSarah Hinson (c) Copyright 2025 by Sarah Hinson  |
 Photo by Andreas Staver at Pexels. |
. . . Sarah and her friends often went camping on the weekends. They were young, recently graduated from high school, and the town they lived in provided little to do for people who were not yet of drinking age. However, the high desert hills of Arizona provided a myriad of ways to get away and get lost. There were back roads that would take you to other small mountain mining towns hundreds of miles away. Sarah and her friends loved this one particular camping spot by a creek with a fire pit in the center of pine trees, that seemed to form a circle. . . .
Don't Sell The Ring Just YetAlbert W. Caron, Jr. (c) Copyright 2025 by Albert W. Caron, Jr. |
 Photo by 21849078 on Pixabay. |
A simple gold band. Given with unconditional love on our wedding day. With a promise to care for one another in sickness and in health. Until death do us part. Little did we know then, that our vows spoken years ago, would be taken literally years later. . . .
My Wife Says That I Am The Master Of The First ImpressionMorf Morford (c) Copyright 2025 by Morf Morford  |
 Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay |
It
is not a compliment.
One of the dimensions of marriage few of us consider is how much your partner reflects on one’s identity, character and values.
My identity and character, apparently, at those memorable and irreplaceable “first” meetings, might be a little "too memorable". . . .
One of the dimensions of marriage few of us consider is how much your partner reflects on one’s identity, character and values.
My identity and character, apparently, at those memorable and irreplaceable “first” meetings, might be a little "too memorable". . . .
Elsie and EdithMother and Daughter KangaroosDeidre Williams (c) Copyright 2025 by Deidre Williams |
 Watercolor (c) 2025 by Deidre Williams. |
"You've
got to be kidding me," I told myself, looking out through the
screen door. Two furry shapes tottered in the morning sunlight.
"Kangaroos? Here?"
I
took a step onto the wood porch, dew cold seeping through my naked
toes. "Hello there," I said softly, my own voice shaking
with thrill. The larger one, dark brown back, white stomach, lifted
her head and opened sleepy eyes to gaze at me. Her companion, a less
rich grey, glanced around behind her leg. . . .
My Encounter With A Red FoxPlamen Vasilev (c) Copyright 2025 by Plamen Vasilev |
 Photo by Mashin Rostislav at Wikimedia Commons. |
The
sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm
golden glow over the dense underbrush of the forest near my home.
It was early autumn, a time when the leaves turned from vibrant green to a patchwork of fiery reds and oranges, carpeting the ground in a soft, crunchy layer. I often found solace in these woods, a refuge where I could escape the chaos of daily life and immerse myself in nature's beauty.
On that particular evening, however, I was about to have an encounter that would stay etched in my memory for years to come. . . .
More...
Raccoon BabyErika MacNeil (c) Copyright 2025 by Erika MacNeil |
 Photo by Chief Trent at Wikimedia Commons. |
"Mom! The car door is open! They're inside! Quick!"
I blunder through layers of groggy sleep and manage to fumble open the tent zipper. Clawing my way out into the inky darkness lit only by a half moon, I stumble off the tarp, slick with pre-dawn dew.
I
can hear them foraging through the contents of my car, and my stomach
lurches as I picture the inevitable scene I'm about to enter, the
lingering stench of rotting food and animal scat emanating from the
driver's side of my ravaged SUV. . . .
HwangeRoger Funston (c) Copyright 2024 by Roger Funston |
 Photo by Per Arne Slotte at Wikimedia Commons.. |
The
radio crackles in a Zimbabwe language (Shona). Our driver and guide,
Mayeso says, "A cheetah had been spotted by another guide.
It’s a ways from here. We’ll have to drive quickly. Do
you want to go?" Hell yes. So we race through the Hwange
Forest Reserve on narrow dirt roads. . . .
More...
Obedience TrainingMarcia Chang Vogl © Copyright 2025 by Marcia Chang Vogl |
 Photo by Olga Andreyanova at Unsplash. |
I
was the proud owner of a golden retriever named Goldie. He
came
to us as a five-month-old puppy. As he grew into an adult
dog,
taking him for walks was a challenge. An eighty-five-pound
woman is no match for an eighty-five-pound golden retriever who
decides he wants to take her for a walk. It does not matter
which end of the leash you are on. . . .
What Is It With Squirrels?Deon Matzen © Copyright 2025 by Deon Matzen |
 Photo by Christine Matthews at Wikimedia Commons. |
Yes,
what is with them? This type of event happens almost daily around
the island where I live. I know that it isn’t limited to this
area because I have seen it elsewhere as well.
Why do squirrels and chipmunks decide to cross the street just when I am driving by? Why do they turn around and try to go back instead of just crossing? Why do they turn around several times before I almost run over them? I am always afraid to look in the rear view mirror for fear it is now lying broken, or worse yet, thrashing wounded in the street.
Why do squirrels and chipmunks decide to cross the street just when I am driving by? Why do they turn around and try to go back instead of just crossing? Why do they turn around several times before I almost run over them? I am always afraid to look in the rear view mirror for fear it is now lying broken, or worse yet, thrashing wounded in the street.
Are they like dogs that chase cars and bite at the tires? Are they trying to bite my car tires?
Excerpt
|
 Photo courtesy of Stockcake. |
Great
Falls, Virginia, 1951-2000
Eleanor
Walcott reacted with predictable discomfort to any attempt to bring
nature into the house. Indoor plants were rare, though Eleanor tried
and failed many times to raise anemic little avocado trees on
windowsills and in tabletop pots.
It
figured,
therefore, that in Wyatt Walcott’s lifetime the family owned
few pets. Typically, Eleanor and her daughter preferred cats and
would nuzzle and eventually lament a succession of them, one or two
at a time. The guys naturally leaned toward dogs (Wyatt’s
paternal grandfather had raised purebred Scottish terriers), but the
women gently vetoed any suggestion to own one until 1962—by
then Charlotte had moved out and married—when a family friend’s
gorgeous tan whippet bore a prizeworthy litter. . . .
To The Stranger At The Grocery Checkout Counter Who Showed Me Who I AmMorf Morford (c) Copyright 2025 by Morf Morford |
 Photo by Andrea Piacquadio at Pexels. |
At
72, I have met a lot of strangers--some friendly, some
menacing, and one or two that never emerged from sleep or maybe a
coma--but they were my travel, or everyday life companions for
a glistening moment or two. . . .
Among the Deer: Life in CanadaLexi Simpson Photos (c) 2025 by the author. (c) Copyright 2025 by Lexi Simpson |
 |  |
When I was seven years old my family made the move to a smaller, more rural town in western Canada.
Our house was settled right in front of a forest where people would frequently go walking or hiking, and the trails led deep into the woods and up to lookouts and other interesting areas.
Growing up here I've had quite a few encounters with wild animals. . . .
No Bad DaysMorf Morford (c) Copyright 2025 by Morf Morford |
 Photo by Andrea Piacquadio at Pexels. |
A
friend of mine had an adult daughter, about 25, who had been
diagnosed with breast cancer.
And
that, after her diagnosis, was her life philosophy - "No
Bad Days".
I'm
not the type to make proclamations or announcements like that.
The Bear At DuskA True Wilderness Encounter In New Brunswick Karen Pojasek (c) Copyright 2025 by Karen Pojasek |
 Photo by Mike Bender/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service at Wikimedia Commons. |
The forest held its breath as we moved through the golden light of late afternoon, our boots whispering against the carpet of fallen leaves. I was seventeen that autumn, still new to the vast wilderness of New Brunswick, and every excursion with Michial, my host father, felt like stepping into another world. . . .
A Race Against ExtinctionRachel Ann Crafton (c) Copyright 2025 by Rachel Ann Crafton |
 Image by nickyduplessis28 from Pixabay |
Rainforests
stretched for miles. There were no deserts, there was only land
covered in masses of greenery, in thick fields of vegetation. Then
the cooling and drying came, vast tracts of lush life shrinking and
shrinking. On these plains, long-legged, speedy predators stalk their
prey. They race, a blur of gold and black, they jump with muscles
coiled, and they tear with claws outstretched. Survival has won for
them, and lost for their prey. . . .
Best In The WorldDevin Meireles (c) Copyright 2024 by Devin Meireles |
 Photo by Student News Agency at Wikimedia Commons. |
. . .An
extended family member begins the story. They tell a lot of stories,
such is an islander trait, but this one stands out from the others. I
listened closely as they told me about a time when the island was
inconspicuous. A little wonderland that was discreet for so long.
Distant from its mainland counterpart, and the rest of the world, it
was compelled to make its own way. That’s the island way. . . .
Mouse OverboardMarsha Porter © Copyright 2025 by Marsha Porter |
 Photo by Ralph at Pixabay. |
It
was a sunny summer morning with a gentle breeze to postpone our usual
100 degree heat. The beauty of my sparkling turquoise pool water vied
with that of the cloudless blue sky above. As I went about my weekly
pool shock treatment ritual, I was temporarily distracted by the
gentle hum of a large dragonfly zooming over my pool. . . .
|
An Act Of Kindness
Dale Fehringer (c) Copyright 2025 by Dale Fehringer |
|
This is a story about baseball and about Willie Mays, one of baseball's greatest center fielders. It's also about kindness and faith in your fellow humans. It's going to take a little while to get to that second part, so I ask for your patience. I'll get there. . . .
|
Aftermath Dreams October 1, 1985
Sarah Byron
© Copyright 2025 byValerie Byron
|
|
Why
do I allow myself to relive those times? The World War II years from
1939 to 1945 pale and are of no consequence compared to the
shattering of my illusions, the ruin of trust, the loss of the man I
idealized, his rejection, my despair. . . .
In The Mouse's HouseEudell Watts (c) Copyright 2025 by Eudell Watts |
 |
I was blessed to spend the first twenty years and more working alongside and with my father. He was a commercial waste hauler. He taught me how to work. He taught me how to treat other people. He taught me honesty. Most importantly he was one thing a lot of my friends growing up did not have. He was there for me. . . .
The Day A Sea Snake Spared MeCaroline Muiruri (c) Copyright 2024 by Caroline Muiruri |
 Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
I enjoyed living in the Gazi Bay town, at the South Coast of Mombasa. The Swahili dishes, rich culture and proximity to the sea filled me with joy each day. While staying there, I decided to make a habit of taking a stroll each evening, right at sunset. The air in that coastal village always carried the scent of salt and mangroves. I used to stroll through a familiar route that cut across some green labyrinth of white mangrove.
One particular afternoon, I decided to take a different path. . . .
More...
Ahmed’s parting shot came soft-sounding, yet loud and raucous. “How can you break what is already broken?”—an adieu I held close to my heart. It niggled at my mind in a way that had me in my feelings, like the song Stranger by Simi, which I always played on repeat. As days crept into weeks, this adieu revealed itself to be the acme of memory. The last bastion of our star-crossed love. . . .
October 2024 had me battered, a husk clawing for air after a grueling year. Work was a merciless churn--emails piling up like unpaid bills, a boss who'd shred my reports for sport, and an emotional drift that left me unmoored, staring at walls when the laptop finally dimmed.
I was drowning, but I'd always been too stubborn to sink completely. Emily, my sister, knew it. . . .
Breaking ShardsSandra Uche Delumozie (c) Copyright 2025 by Sandra Uche Delumozie |
 Photo by Michael Gill at Wikimedia Commons. |
Ahmed’s parting shot came soft-sounding, yet loud and raucous. “How can you break what is already broken?”—an adieu I held close to my heart. It niggled at my mind in a way that had me in my feelings, like the song Stranger by Simi, which I always played on repeat. As days crept into weeks, this adieu revealed itself to be the acme of memory. The last bastion of our star-crossed love. . . .
The Squirrel That Stole My LunchSubham Rai (c) Copyright 2025 by Subham Rai |
 Photo by Charles James Sharp at Wikimedia Commons. |
October 2024 had me battered, a husk clawing for air after a grueling year. Work was a merciless churn--emails piling up like unpaid bills, a boss who'd shred my reports for sport, and an emotional drift that left me unmoored, staring at walls when the laptop finally dimmed.
I was drowning, but I'd always been too stubborn to sink completely. Emily, my sister, knew it. . . .
| The
Future Is Predictable Ezra Azra (c) Copyright 2025 by Ezra Azra |
 Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
. . . .I have never had a cat as a pet. For the first twenty-nine years of my life I had never seen a domestic cat. And so when I was six years old a peripatetic part-time fortune-teller predicted that sometime in my future a cat would save my life, all my family members at that table having a tea-break were skeptically and dismissively amused. . . .
An Observation On Baby RabbitsLeaving The NestKelly Wionzek (c) Copyright 2024 by Kelly Wionzek |
 Photo of baby cottontail courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
Several days ago I had the privilege of stumbling upon a nest of baby cottontails. Although having fur, the ears were short and they were blind.
Leaving them be, only checking their progress occasionally, we verified that the mother was feeding them during the night by leaving twig patterns on the nest. Over the days, she seemed to leave the yard later and later in the morning until one day she did not leave at all. . . .
Letter To Vanessa
Sarah Byron (c) Copyright 2025 byValerie Byron |
|
My
late mother, Sarah Byron, was born in the East End of London in
1911. Her stories and memoirs are colorful and richly
embroidered with detail that I find amazing that she recalled so late
in life. Below is a "letter" - but more of a memoir -
that she sent to my 13 year old daughter, Vanessa, in 1985. . . .
| When
The Gods Are Paying Attention Bheka Pierce (c) Copyright 2025 by Bheka Pierce |
 Image by beauty_of_nature from Pixabay |
Did
the driver of
the oncoming SUV, an elderly man whose forehead barely cleared the
steering wheel, see the little girl in her yellow dress and matching
hair ribbons? He was coming at speed, perhaps hoping to beat the
light a block beyond.
It was only by chance that I was here on the sidewalk in Copenhagen. Hard rain during the night had drowned my plan to mow the backyard. Instead, I cycled to the bank to get a hundred-dollar bill for each of my kids back in America. I'd tell them--as always--not to spend it all in one place. . . .
The Black DressLoukia Janavaras (c) Copyright 2025 by Loukia Janavaras  |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
One
of my favorite photos from childhood is of my mom and me in Corinth,
Greece in the summer of 1971, the summer I turned two. She went back
to Ancient Corinth, her hometown to see her dying mother
my yiaya (grandma)
Vasiliki who was in her late 70s and took me along so I could meet
her for the first and last time. All the years I had seen this square
photo with its crisp white border tightly sealed inside an acrylic
photo cube, I never knew the secret it held. . . .
Guides In GardensLoukia Janavaras (c) Copyright 2025 by Loukia Janavaras |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
After dropping off my husband Andrew at his work headquarters, I decided to drive the rental car to Central Park and check out the Japanese Garden. This was our first trip to San Mateo, California so I wanted to explore and had the luxury to do so on my husband's work trip. I felt grateful for such an experience. . . .
Winter Days Of
Old
James L. Cowles (c)
Copyright 2025 by James L. Cowles |
|
A special time, one of a kind, a long, long time ago
A real tree, lights, tinsel bright, outside, the fluffy snow
Days of youth, the truest truth, with the world aglow
A real tree, lights, tinsel bright, outside, the fluffy snow
Days of youth, the truest truth, with the world aglow
Dear Mr. BluLoukia Janavaras (c) Copyright 2025 by Loukia Janavaras |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
How
is it possible that you've been gone seven months? Seven months
today, in fact. And every month on the anniversary I tell myself I am
going to write you a letter. But the muse has not been with me of
late. Well, that plus the little voice of reason in my head that
says, you aren't really going to write a letter to him, are
you? Come on, really?. . .
What's Happening?Bonnie Crandall (c) Copyright 2025 by Bonnie Crandall |
 Image by rony michaud from Pixabay |
What's happening? . . . Something weird. But what? . . . What do I do? . . . WHAT IS HAPPENING!
I had just returned home from leading a workshop and my PowerPoint overload was giving me a serious headache. So, I grabbed a bottle of over-the-counter pain meds and popped two into my mouth. A few minutes passed and I could feel the medication taking hold. But it wasn't what I expected! My eyes felt as like they were trying to push out of my head. My tongue was suddenly too big for my mouth. My throat was swelling, and breathing was becoming very stressful. I knew I was in trouble, but couldn't understand why! . . .
| We
Are Family Karen Radford Treanor
(c) Copyright 2025 by Karen Radford Treanor
|
 Photo of the house on Elm Street courtesy of the author. |
"Family"
is a fluid concept these days. Perhaps it always was, outside the
confines of the conservative media.
An
acquaintance recently became the father of an adorable and
much-wanted baby girl. The event should be an occasion of
congratulations and best wishes, and so it is, except for a sizeable
majority who don't think he deserved the chance to be a parent,
due to what they term his 'lifestyle' and 'ungodly
behaviour'. . . .
| ". . .And Sat Down Beside Her. . ." Karen Radford Treanor
(c) Copyright 2025 by Karen Radford Treanor
|
 Photo of spider and soup spoon courtesy of the author. |
Things you don't want to see while driving at 100 kilometres per hour down a major highway in Tasmania: a humongous Huntsman spider running around the dashboard of your car.
I had several adventures with these spiders when I was living in Western Australia, but had not expected to find them in Tasmania's cooler climes. I try not to kill them, because they are useful beasts that eat bugs, and if you whack them they leave blobs of spider nougat all over the place. They really are big; an adult female would cover a salad plate from toe to toe. They are interesting creatures--in the right place. . . .
The Best Kept Secret of theKruger National ParkSarah Nash (c) Copyright 2024 by Sarah Nash  |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
I've been going to the Kruger Park for as long as I can remember (my mom still has some of my sightings lists in my round, baby handwriting and superbly creative spelling) but it's only recently that I've discovered its best kept secret.
There are 11 bird hides in Kruger, but two of them are different. . . .
Road MomsThomas Turman (c) Copyright 2025 by Thomas Turman |
 Photo by Ramiro Pianarosa at Unsplash. |
We
left Southern California in 1949 to live in my parent's home
state of Colorado. Denver was nothing like the flashy Los Angeles I
was used to, so I was always looking for something to do. Nothing
worse than a bored spoiled kid.
Instead of working in the glorious and romantic aircraft industry, my dad now traveled the mid-west selling automotive testing equipment. During the summer between my seventh and eighth grades, I would get in our '39 Chevy with my dad and make the rounds of car dealers and auto garages in an endless trail of small but sturdy towns. . . .
Instead of working in the glorious and romantic aircraft industry, my dad now traveled the mid-west selling automotive testing equipment. During the summer between my seventh and eighth grades, I would get in our '39 Chevy with my dad and make the rounds of car dealers and auto garages in an endless trail of small but sturdy towns. . . .
My Three Dads: A Father's Day TributeAbbie Creed (c) Copyright 2025 by Abbie Creed |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
I wrote
this as a Father's Day tribute for my
six adult children, five boys and one girl. Each of the men in this
story had already passed when I wrote it. I wanted them to know the
father's that they had become and were becoming were influenced by
the father's that came before them. And the gift goes on! . . .
A Likely StoryThomas Turman (c) Copyright 2025 by Thomas Turman |
 Photo by Ramin Talebi at Unsplash. |
Among
the many being disgorged from the Boston Municipal Bank was Dolan
Amory Stills. He lives with the parents who lumbered him with his
stilted name. Dolan is a middle manager in the bank and proud of his
success there. He has almost everything he wants, but not the one
thing he really needs. A girlfriend. . . .
My Global Birthday WishAbbie Creed (c) Copyright 2023 by Abbie Creed |
 Photo by Alexa at Pixabay. |
This story expresses how I learned and taught about the cultures, traditions, music and religions of people from around the world. Through experiencing an unplanned event I made new friendships and came to realize that through modern technology, the world in which we live is truly a small world! . . .
More...
|
Honeymoon In Paradise Henry Lansing Woodward (c) Copyright 2025 by Henry Lansing Woodward |
 Photo by Nico Smit on Unsplash |
After
about three bounces, the boy bounced out the window and
in
an instant, he was gone ten floors down.
It was another fabulous day in Paradise. One of those days that happens almost every day. This weather draws millions of visitors a year to our cluster of islands located over two thousand miles from any other land mass and is boringly wonderful, day after day after day. . . .
It was another fabulous day in Paradise. One of those days that happens almost every day. This weather draws millions of visitors a year to our cluster of islands located over two thousand miles from any other land mass and is boringly wonderful, day after day after day. . . .
| Pennies For Forgiveness Ezra Azra (c) Copyright 2025 by Ezra Azra |
 Photo by Sergio Arteaga at Pexels. |
Fire
walking barefoot is a ritual that was practiced in Ancient times in
Greece, Rome, The Middle East, India, and Africa. The ritual is
referred to, sometimes, as The Flower Ritual because the glowing hot
coals resemble orange-colored flowers.
A fire ritual is mentioned as a practice in the Bible: "Thou shalt not let any of thy seed pass through the fire to Molech."
Nowadays,
it is practiced by many cultures in many countries. The purpose
always has been atonement for sins against gods. . . .
Pennies From KJElizabeth Lopilato (c) Copyright 2025 by Elizabeth Lopilato |
 Photo courtesy of Pixabay. |
Most of us have dealt with the
expected loss of a parent, grandparent or anyone who has lived a full
life and is ready to go. It's a heartfelt loss and grieving
is a normal part of the circle of life. The loss of a child, no matter
what their age, is devastating to the parents. Parents are supposed
to go before their children in the normal pattern of life and
death. It's especially devastating when the loss is sudden
and tragic. . . .
| Amaxophobia Patricia M. Snell (c) Copyright 2025 by Patricia M. Snell |
 Photo of the author |
My
husband and I live in a rural area. It's at least a 30 minute
drive to get to places for shopping and other business. This is not a
good situation for someone with a fear of riding in a vehicle.
I suffer from amaxophobia. I fear riding in a vehicle. Amaxophobia prevents me from visiting my daughter in Baltimore, 374 miles away from where I live in New York. It prevents me from going to see my grandchildren, 368 miles away in Connecticut. My fear has gotten to the point that I can't even tolerate a 2 hour drive to Syracuse to see my son and daughter-in-law. My husband and I both suspect my fear is rooted in a fear of losing control. . . .
I suffer from amaxophobia. I fear riding in a vehicle. Amaxophobia prevents me from visiting my daughter in Baltimore, 374 miles away from where I live in New York. It prevents me from going to see my grandchildren, 368 miles away in Connecticut. My fear has gotten to the point that I can't even tolerate a 2 hour drive to Syracuse to see my son and daughter-in-law. My husband and I both suspect my fear is rooted in a fear of losing control. . . .
I'll Never Forget Her SmileFredrick Hudgin (c) Copyright 2025 by Fredrick Hudgin |
 Photo Reiner at Pexels. |
I was in a hurry. My wife wanted flour tortillas instead of the corn tortillas that the recipe called for in the Cowgirl Casserole I planned to make for dinner. The line at the checkout had three people in front of me. Slowly, those people collected their groceries, paid the tab, and walked their carts out to the parking lot.
The elderly woman in front of me had trouble with the credit card reader. It kept declining her card. I glanced at the total on the display--seventy dollars and change. . . .
More...| Home
For Christmas Karen Radford Treanor
(c) Copyright 2025 by Karen Radford Treanor
|
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
"We
just need to find the cow monument," I said as we drove through
the centre of the small New Hampshire town for the third time. "I'll
know where we are from there--although it's been over 20
years since the last time I was here."
"If
here is in fact where we are and not somewhere
else,"
grumbled my sister, who was driving. "Are you sure this is the
right town?"
Fifth Person in the RoomGeorge R. Frost (c) Copyright 2025 by George R. Frost |
Photo by Michael Gil at Wikimedia Commons. |
The
pain in my chest started at one in the morning. It was so intense; it
woke me up from a deep sleep. Amy, my wife 9-1-1 dialed. In
minutes, I could hear sirens in the distance.
I felt like I was drifting away on a cloud between this world and the next. Everything got blurry.
"They're here." Amy told me as the doorbell rang. . . .
I felt like I was drifting away on a cloud between this world and the next. Everything got blurry.
"They're here." Amy told me as the doorbell rang. . . .
The Forgotten GlassesGene Treanor (c) Copyright 2025 by Gene Treanor |
 Photo from Wikimedia Commons. |
My apprenticeship in cabinet making had included a fair few hours of learning the finishing side of the trade. Using and learning about stains, grain filler, linseed oil, shellac, and spraying lacquer were all part of my work week.
After working in a small country workshop for several years, I landed a position in a larger shop in Cambridge, not as a cabinetmaker as I had hoped, but as a finisher of the work of the other, more experienced, men in the shop. . . .
|
Short Pants
(c) Copyright 2025 by James L. Cowles |
|
I
remember a time when life was much more of an adventure, and I was
much like a cat, very curious about so many things. It was a time
when the world was indeed, brand new to me, when in fact I, myself,
was also fairly new to the world. I am betting I am not alone in
this; that others remember that time in their life. In fact,maybe we
all were much the same. . . .
Ham and EggsFredrick Hudgin (c) Copyright 2025 by Fredrick Hudgin |
 Photo by by jeffreyw at Wikimedia Commons. |
When
I deployed to Vietnam in 1970, I had two MOSs (Military Occupational
Skill). One was as a fuel and electrical repairman. The other was a
truck driver. So, I was given a choice of which one would be used to
place me into a unit. I wanted to see the country and what the fuss
was all about, so I chose to be a truck driver.
Under WeighDoug Sherr (c) Copyright 2025 by Doug Sherr 2021 Winners Circle Contest Winner |
 Photo by Markos Mant on Unsplash |
The
Hawk swirled snow and debris down the alley knocking
over a
garbage can as I shoved the mattress into my station wagon. The Hawk
is Chicago's brutal winter wind that carries enough humidity to
cut though the best winter clothes causing your bones to ache. I
threw in my bags carrying clothes, foul weather gear, zero temp-rated
sleeping bag and the plastic box holding my sextant. . . .
Tutus and Toe ShoesValerie Forde-Galvin (c) Copyright 2025 by Valerie Forde-Galvin |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
I'm
not a dancer but I do know a bit more about ballet than most, having
worn the tutu at the tender age of four. My performing career as a
toddler was brief and unmemorable: recitals where I pranced blithely
upon a stage applauded by adoring relatives. . . .
| Lucky
Jakkal Ezra Azra (c) Copyright 2025 by Ezra Azra
|
 Photo by Dfpindia at Wikimedia Commons. |
Normally,
there were many, many sounds of wild animals at night on our family
farm in Africa. I was born on that farm, and lived there my first
twenty-nine years.
| I'll
Be Seeing You Sara Etgen-Baker (c) Copyright 2025 by Sara Etgen-Baker |
 Photo of Winnie and Ed Etgen courtesy of the author |
My
mother grew up during the Depression in Liberal, Kansas. When the
Liberal Army Airfield was constructed during World War II she, like
so many American women of the era, felt compelled to serve her
country. So, she quit her teaching job and worked as a civil servant
at the Airfield where she met and later married my father. . . .
| The
Kaleidiscope Effect Sara Etgen-Baker (c) Copyright 2025 by Sara Etgen-Baker |
  Photos courtesy of the author.. |
. . . I stood at the altar
next to my husband-to-be and said, "I do," not fully
comprehending that I was also saying "I do" to two
ex-wives and three stepchildren, the youngest of which was 5 years
old. Although I was 31, I knew little about being a wife and even
less about being a stepmother. But I loved Bill and willingly
accepted the circumstances, confident I'd figure it out along
the way. . . .
|
Monadnock Giles Ryan (c) Copyright 2025 by Giles Ryan
|
 Photo from the top of Mt. Monadnock courtesy of the author. |
Here
in New England, about forty of us, old friends, have come together
again to mark the fifty years since we all first gathered for Peace
Corps language training, a shared experience followed by another, our
time in Korea as school teachers, after which we were never the same. . . .