I think I liked Melanie because her hair had a slight bit of curl which I might have envied although this was the era of slick, stick-straight, part-down-the-center, the-longer-the-better 1970s hair. Melanie showed up in the middle of Beowulf one day in English class. No, she wasn’t monster hunting, she brought me from the midst … Continue reading
Part 1 is here: https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/2018/06/10/the-summer-of-the-yellow-jackets/ “See that, kids. The town is behind us. We are gonna rock this year!” Coach Grey exclaimed. “Lookout, Kingland!” said Oliver. “Well, we don’t want to get all crazy, they still got a good team. Don’t ya’ll get lazy and quit batting practice. We will still keep working!” Coach Grey … Continue reading
Part 1: If you go back to the edge of time, you can find it there on the corner of Ivy and 4th streets. You would need to look closely to see, but still, you could. Examining that old chain link fence, you could make out the dents carved from 1973 where the ball struck … Continue reading
Part 1 is here: https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/2017/10/30/through-the-desert-with-the-stones/ “Is there a mechanic up there in town or do you know?” asked Greg to Mustache Man. The man stared back. He had leather tarnished skin and vertical lines forming like silky spider legs around his lips. Mustache Man looked him directly in the eyes and said nothing still, then looked … Continue reading
It was 1986 when Greg Taylor decided life was limited in small town. After all, he had thoroughly blasted it with Led Zeppelin back in the 70s, and there just wasn’t much more to do. He had the hair – check, mastered the guitar – check, saved some money….well ok, not saved any real money, … Continue reading
Part one of this story can be found here: https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/2017/10/22/at-the-shopette-pt-1/ “What’s your name?” asked the dark cop. “Greg….Greg Taylor,” I said. “So Greg, you should be in school, why are you here?” “Lunch,” I answered weakly. “So, you like baseball cards, do ya?” asked the dark cop. “Umm, yeah,” I said. “Yeah!” he bellowed. … Continue reading
Why go back to the 1980s when you can revisit the 1970s? I wrote this character sketch on my cousin when I was about fifteen-years-old. She had visited us and spent the summer on our farm when I was around nine or ten and evidently made a lasting impression on me. I wrote a bit … 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
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
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