She once had a daughter.
She once had a son.
Category: Women’s fiction
Establishing Witness, conclusion
The preacher was a neat spare man in a yellow shirt and navy blue slacks. Had she not seen the maroon Bible pressed underneath his arm, she’d have mistaken him for a Vista Volunteer.
Establishing Witness, con’t. Joan Spilman
When nothing happened, Vernie began to fear the worst. Anjean had been murdered and no one had identified her body. She’d been sent to the medical school in Morgantown; the Adult Service Work having checked the box, “anatomical gift”.
Ray Welk, 1911-1962
“I loved Ray Welk from the time I was eight years old. When the love bug bit, I felt the sting to the tip of my toes. He didn’t feel anything, he was too busy.
Lumpy McGhee, 1921-2007
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve seen enough of human nature.”
Rena Davis, 1921
Shame is a fire, burning my core.
Blanche Shaw, at the Edge
Blanche draws me by her very diffidence. She stands apart, looking unhappy and confused.
Excerpt from Silver Bottle, a memory from Lorraine.
Lorraine’s childhood is marred by the alcoholism of her mother. However, she does have a few happy memories, and the sound of popping soap bubbles is one… Read more “Excerpt from Silver Bottle, a memory from Lorraine.”
Carmen Amber’s Turn
A slyly sensual sound at a time when sex wasn’t talked about, except by married women on front porches in the summer twilight, or wildly exaggerated by teenage girls, also in whispers but with a throatiness, a raw edge which might cause the speaker to break off, red-faced, while the rest of us looked at our feet.
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The woman in my mind just now? That was my mother. Resurrection driven, gliding in and out as easily as a paschal moon, hungry for a feast.
Joan Spilman 