I refer to waterfall music a far distance from time’s corridor seeking secrets of forest lore sung with gentle notes upon the lyre. The wayward, woodland creatures walk in scattered circles by and the trees sing of eclipsing magic once upon a brazen summer solstice. Oh, verdant measure the essence of the forest and petite … Continue reading
This is an old story that I wrote approximately 200 years ago, otherwise known as the 1990s, for a creative writing class that I was taking for credit hours in English lit. Professor I Don’t Remember His Name said that this story “did not bother him that much” but that I leaned much too heavily … Continue reading
1736 Lamont Street. I knew this was the place when I first saw it. A stately Victorian tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. The house looked majestic sitting there bordered by lovely rows of azaleas across the front, their pink, frilly blooms jutting out over the slender, almost lime green leaves. Sure, it needed … Continue reading
In the tic tock moments of time distance drips from an IV as we realize the quality of permanence desperate attempts we all claw at wholeness denied by age decided by destiny rambling on until the grand finale Continue reading
So we left our heroine, Mary Ann Davis on the cusp of having entered the county beauty pageant to compete for prize money which she desperately needed to go to medical assistant school in California. Mary Ann’s career goals were limited in her little town so she had decided she wanted to be an assistant … Continue reading
After the assembly, Eliza and I picked up little pink pamphlets with a typewriter embossed at the top. “Boy, some of the idiots they let in this place,” I said. “Definitely,” Eliza answered. “To think that I would cut my nails to type all day!” Time passed in a flurry and the contest was near. … Continue reading
In case you need to read the previous: https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/2017/06/05/leaving-witt-2/ “So long, Eliza, see you tomorrow at school.” At school the next day, Joey stuffed a piece of paper in my hand. It was an application for the Miss Rutherford County Contest. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked him. “I’m helping you get … Continue reading
