Tag: writers life

Day 16: Christanukkah Eve by Linda McMullen

On the 16th Day of Christmas Linda McMullen gave to me… My parents didn’t create the Christmas-ornaments-as-Hanukkah-gifts schtick.  But Wikipedia will probably give them credit (generations hence) for the virgin birth of the double-barrel meshugga Christanukkah guilt trip: “Have you been to mass already, or –” Mom warbles, as Dad registers my empty hands and

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Day 15: What Grandpa Said by Damhnait Monaghan

On the 15th Day of Christmas Damhnait Monaghan gave to me… Chloe said, “I’m ready to post my letter up the chimney, Grandma.” “Let me read it first,” said Ruth. “But I licked it.” Before Ruth could reply, Grandpa Jim took the envelope and chucked it on the fire. It was Chloe’s first Christmas without

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Day 14: The Dead Birds of Christmas by Edward Ahern

On the 14th Day of Christmas Edward Ahern gave to me… “I don’t like turkey.” Sarah made shushing noises. “Phil, it’s Christmas. Pretend it’s veal. Or pork.” “It tastes like greasy cardboard. I’ll tell my brother I’ve gone Vegan.” “They’ve been to your cookouts. They already know you scrape vegetables off your plate.” “Yeah, but

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Applause by Thomas Benfield

I used to wake up early. I used to wake up before sunrise— when the temperature felt a season colder. I used to live on the side of a mountain where a tree fallen over a path could go unnoticed for weeks. And somewhere there was an axe I could use to clear it. I

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Day 12: Click clack twitch by Judy Darley

On the 12th Day of Christmas Judy Darley gave to me… I watched her emerge through the gleaming glass doors and hurry through snow to the bus stop. With a flick of my ear, the electronic sign glitched, showing false news of buses running late. She pursed her lips, and settled on the tilted plastic

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Confit by Thomas Benfield

Onto the dense undergrowth of stunted hay stalks and wide leafed grasses, a pheasant I shot shouldered its graceless fall.  I remember we, that bird and I, were in a clearing on a hill. The surrounding woods had long since turned their colors and shook off their dead growths. The sky was clear. The air

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GUEST POST: Write What You Know by David H. Reiss

Once upon a time–when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was still in high school–I had a wonderful English teacher who treated his students as peers and insisted that we all call him by his first name; his enthusiasm for literature and drama was outright contagious. He convinced me to read outside my preferred genres

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Shallow Creek: And The Winner is…

So here we are. It seems like it was only a few weeks ago when we launched the Shallow Creek competition, inviting people to enter the quirky town where anything could go. We’ve read some amazing stories along the way – we’ve laughed, we’ve cried and more importantly we’ve been left with disturbing imagery and

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