Category: Grown-Up Stuff
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The Shadow Man
I wrote this short story for a Halloween contest some years back. It was inspired by true events.
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Bridges
I wrote this story for a creative writing class my junior year of college. The professor had given us two assignments: Write a short fiction story for the class to critique, then write another one for the professor to critique. For the first story, my goal was simply to write a humorous tale of mundane…
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Little White Lies
Craig suppressed a gag as Martha set the plate of broccoli casserole, her “specialty,” in front of him. “I made your favorite,” she smiled. “And there’s plenty more in the kitchen.” “You shouldn’t have,” he said, subtly leaning to the side so as to avoid the hot aroma wafting up. “It’s no trouble,” she replied,…
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Legs
I’m never going to forgive u. She hit Send, and as a second thought, quickly typed Hope ur happy. Then, before she could receive a response, she turned her phone off and set it on the bedside table. She closed her eyes and let her head droop for a moment, just one moment to feel…
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Property of Nicholas Plath
Sylvia Plath knew she was doomed as soon as she opened her mother’s birthday present. It was going to be a book – her mother never gave her anything else – but this one was heavy. She pulled the newspaper wrapping away from the cover and read the title. “The Bell Jar?” She looked up…
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The Lesson
6:15 a.m. Better call in a sick day, Molly thought as she stared at her reflection. No amount of concealer was going to cover up that bruise. She smiled, thinking of the light-hearted responses she’d give to her coworkers if she did go in. Oh, I’m fine, but you should see the other guy.5:15 a.m.…
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The Caretaker
Jessie Gates would have traded the rest of her life for one good cup of coffee. As she mixed water with powdered eggs, she took a sip from her mug, grimaced, then dumped the rest of it into the sink. “What’s the matter with it today? Too weak again?” her husband, Harry, asked as…
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Village of Straw and Mud
Lilathena was finally in a place where she felt she might belong. This was the fourth village she had seen in a month, the eighth since she had lost her mother, and the tenth since they had left behind their old home together at the beginning of the planting season. Unlike all the other towns…
Kate the Writer 