Anne Sexton - Nov 9, 1928 - Oct 4, 1974 In 1987, Jack Zipes published a collection of fairy tales called, Don't Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America and England. The two authors who stood... Read more →


When Talia was three, she got lost in the garden behind the house. She stomped in circles around the same copse looking for a break in the underbrush; there was none. When the moon was full, she howled. Nanny didn't... Read more →


Chernevog was a dick, no question there. If you crossed him, he'd be on your tail as long as it took to cut you down; no mercy, no quarter. Quarter wouldn't have applied anyway; Chernevog didn't appear to have quarters... Read more →


Hank could not believe she would do this. To staple a gold paper crown to his head and drop him down a well was one thing. To leave him down here with half a pack of Newport Lights and one... Read more →


Yelena stared at the wall and nurtured her rage. Om Shanti, Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om... fifteen minutes every day. She refused to cut her hair, but clipped her nails to the quick. She was ordered to the shower... Read more →


"Just because she carries it well doesn't mean it isn't heavy (Love and Rage)" - Noelle Mirabella Photography **** This showed up in my facebook feed and I reposted before I processed the contents of her load. I might have... Read more →


I think all married people do this; at least that's what I tell myself. No matter how hard we try, we lose bits of ourselves over time. Commitment is a horribly abused word. As with the word, literally, it rarely... Read more →


Some memories hold on. They dig in deep and maybe we're unaware; but a photograph, a sound, in my case, often a smell, slams the entire vignette into the present. When this happens, I write as much as I remember.... Read more →