When It Was Cold As Hell – Fiction

Here is my entry for the current word prompt from Literary Lion.  The word is “ICE’.  Drop by Literary Lion for more entries.

When It Was Cold As Hell

Letter to New Orleans from Montreal,  Winter 1998

Dear Mother ~

Yes, it’s cold here. It’s in the negatives. Snow and ice and cold and drab. Not a nice welcome for a Southerner.

I’m not sure when Fernando will return from Portugal. He certainly won’t fly back here in this sort of weather. No, Mother, he’s not spending this time with his ex-wife in Toronto. I took your advice and called his parents’ home in Portugal . Luckily for him and unluckily for you, he was there.

I wish you would just be happy for me. Happy that I love and am loved again. If you must be unhappy, be unhappy because we are having an ice storm and I was unable to renew my passport in time to travel.

Fernando really is a wonderful person – even though I met him on the internet.

Love and many kisses !

Diary entry
Montreal, February 1998

Dear Diary ~

I can’t stand it when Mother is right. Fernando really is a wonderful person. He’s just not the wonderful person I want to live with for the rest of my life. I’m so glad we haven’t married, yet.

Well, let’s put it this way..,he doesn’t live in a city I want to live in for the rest of my life. I never imagined that hating a bit of ice and snow and all things cold could end our love affair. Who thinks of such things in the heat of the moment?

As ever,

Letter from New Orleans to Montreal, May 1998

Dear Fernando ~

I’m glad the snow has melted at last. It’s hotter than the hinges of hell here.

We tried our best.

Forever your sandpiper friend,


Anticipation – A Sonnet

Here’s a sonnet I’m submitting for  Literary Lion’s word of the week.  The word is ‘eye‘.  Please do click the link for other entries.

(Since I’m just finishing up a biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay, I thought I’d share another sonnet I’ve written.   I’m also coloring in an owl coloring book for adults.  So…lucky you 😛 )


Three owls in a tree one evening last Spring
cooing, to the Jasmine flapping, their wings
all a flutter with scents and sensing love.
My little mask eyed one  lifts me above!
All efforts effortless this starry May
become against the sapphire night’s skyway.
One owl, seemingly wiser than the rest
took a moment – perched on the branch – to rest
and catch her breath.  She looked beyond that night
while far away a full moon shining bright
spoke to her; its words echoed majestic
all that was possible – all fantastic.
Three owls roosting in a bare tree that night
were seen embracing
just before their flight.


Friends & Love – Fiction

A little story submitted for  Literary Lion’s word this week.  The word is ‘dance’ and my story goes this way:

Friends & Love

“I have often danced alone, and that’s the truth of it all,” Wanda said matter-of-factly.  “There’s no reason to hide anything anymore.”

Wanda and Margot were having a coffee and croissants at the cafe near their home. Margot had assumed her role. Dart board. Shoulder. Ear. The role didn’t bother Margot these days. It had become a game she knew. Just follow the cue.

“Are you hiding something from me, Wanda, after all these years?” Margot asked. “Not some little thing, of course. But – anything?”

“Not much more than that.” Wanda spread butter and fig preserves onto her croissant. Life was decadent, after all. Why not play along with it?

“I have often danced alone,” Wanda repeated. “Even with you.”


King Him – Fiction

This is in response to this week’s Literary Lion word challenge.  This week’s word is ‘king’ and to write something 400 words or less…I’m chuckling but I really did try this time:

King Him

“What do you think about when you hear the word king?” I asked.

“I think of Martin Luther King,” Buck replied.

That seemed rather odd to me; odd that someone wouldn’t automatically associate the word king with Elvis Presley. “I think of Elvis Presley,” I said.

“Ah, Sissy.” Buck reached for me. We were on the veranda at his folks’ house, sitting in the old rattan rocking love seat. Summer was heavier than sex in a hay stack.

I’ve loved Buck at least as long as the bougainvillea vine has clung to his mother’s wooden trellises. He’s plain, but not ordinary. Always some heart hanging on his sleeve.

“Ah Sissy what?” I asked, shaking and grinding against the air and humming “I’m All Shook Up”.


Prom Night – 1969 (Fiction)

My submission for a piece of writing no more than 400 words about the word ‘escape’  I didn’t write as many words this week, but I’m satisfied with the piece.   More pieces can be found here at Literary Lion.  Thanks for offering this challenge!

I am so joyful about the Supreme Court’s Gay Marriage decision that I couldn’t help but write this piece. gay_pride

Prom Night, 1969

We didn’t talk about it much in those days. So, when Tony didn’t want to kiss me good-night after our prom date, I thought it was something about me. Maybe I had bad breath. Maybe my false eye lashes were drooping off in the New Orleans humidity.  He was so damned perfectly cute, and so was I.

It wasn’t until today, when the Supreme Court voted for gay marriage and I saw Tony’s picture plastered on the front page of the Times Picayune – holding a gay pride flag and kissing some guy smack on the lips – that I realized it never had been me.


More Than Anything We Can See – Fiction

So!  Here it is!  My submission for a piece of writing no more than 400 words.  This was great!  I went all the way to  252 words.  Incredible!  So this challenge should have something to do with ‘morning’.  More pieces can be found here at Literary Lion.  Thanks for offering this challenge!

More Than Anything We Can See

Granville always promised stuff to Marlene. This and that and almost anything. So, when they rushed Gran to the hospital, Marlene was in shock.

The emergency room was bright and cold and so very public. This didn’t stop Marlene from flinging herself over Gran’s body and sobbing, “He promised me he wouldn’t die before me.”

The doctors thought Marlene was nuts. Or cold. Or detached. Marlene was none of these. Marlene was simply holding on to one last thread of hope for a promise to be kept.

The entire point of it all was that Granville promised so much of himself away to people. So many of his golden morning sunrises. The other entire point of it all was that Gran’s promises weren’t meant to be kept. They were meant to appease and soothe the moment. Marlene didn’t know this. No matter how many promises Gran broke, Marlene believed in him. And this death part promise seemed unbreakable.

And so, when Gran died first, most everyone felt badly for Marlene. Not that anyone else blamed Gran for dying first.

Years later, I went with my cousins and aunts to clean out the family crypt. We brushed away ashes and bones.

“It’s not just dusty promises,” our old Aunt Lulu whispered. She filled a small tie bag with some ashes and bones.

“Oh Lulu,” Aunt Cleo said. She put her arm over her sister’s shoulder. “Let’s not go there now.”

“She should have forgiven him,” Aunt Lulu said.