Thick-Skulled

   Chuckles, the dog never actually learned that we took out the doggie door.  He just kept banging his head into solid wood.  Sure, he'd eventually whimper for us to let him out, but he couldn't quite catch on to what was happening.
   He should have--there's no explanation why he hasn't, but there it is.
   We keep thinking of ways to help him, but nothing ever seems to work.

Good Morning, My Darling

   "AHHH!  Oh, God!  I'm hideous!"
   Servants rushed about searching for something--anything!--to quell the storm.
   "How can I ever be seen in public again?!"
   "Now, ma'am.  There is nothing wrong with your face or figure," reported Lady Felina's handmaiden.
   "Nothing?  Nothing!  Oh, everything is wrong!  My eyes are swollen and puffy, my skin blotchy, my hands cracked, and I'm bloated!"
   At the door, her Lord's strained smile tightened. 

Let's Let Bygones be Bygones

   Samuel awoke with a start, reaching for his silent alarm clock, and he squinted the red-glowing numbers into focus.  Five-forty.  He had been restless all night; the last thing he needed was to be late to breakfast with Alice.
   How he was going to explain to her that he impregnated his ex-wife, he didn't know.  It terrified him.  He just hoped she would hear him out.

Can't Be Tamed

   A man with yellow-green eyes squeezed through the mass of people on the dance floor, trying to reach the slender brunette at the bar.  
   She had her back, half-bared, facing him.  With each twirl of her martini glass, the tiger on her shoulder blade came alive.
   She spun when the man put his hand on her.  Their eyes burned bright with anger.
   "You're coming home right now."

Dead in the Night

   "I wish she would just frick'n grow up.  If she doesn't have the balls to show up and face me, just say it!"
   An agitated shadow faced left and then right, fighting with itself and darkness, along the cement floor of a three-story parking garage.
   "I don't need anyone wasting my time."
   "Good, neither do I."  A voice answered.
   The pacing shadow spun, "You came--"
   Bullets rang out.

One Day

   Yesterday, I could've sworn I had a life--people loved me and I would always have them.  Today, fuck it.
   I am nowhere with no one and nothing will ever happen.  I am frozen and burning.  I am tethered, yet evanescent.  I am in a place that doesn't exist.  I am.  And I am no longer.  I am dead.
   I thought this was the promised land.  I was wrong.

AAND, ACTION!

Scene opens to a couple pacing a modern living room.  The length of a white couch separates them and a mostly empty bowl of popcorn sits forgotten on a metal coffee table downstage.  An exterior door is off-center toward stage left and a staircase is on stage right.


BOYFRIEND: I can't believe you're holding this against me.
GIRLFRIEND: (interrupting and irate)You!  You can't believe it!?  What!  Did you think I'd just smile and laugh?
BOYFRIEND: You're overreacting.
GIRLFRIEND: (chilling intensity) Yes. I am.  I should stop overreacting and start behaving like a good little girl.
BOYFRIEND: (turning on the charm) Baby, you know I didn't mean that.  C'mon.
GIRLFRIEND: Then what did you mean exactly?  (backing away arms folded)
BOYFRIEND: That we should relax and talk about this. (sits down and pats the seat cushion next to him)
GIRLFRIEND: Fine. (sits abruptly) I think you should have told me months ago, when we first started dating, that you--
BOYFRIEND: Okay! Okay.  I know.  I'm sorry that I let you believe that I was--
GIRLFRIEND: The man of my dreams?  The perfect yin to my yang?
BOYFRIEND: (exasperated) Everybody pretends a little bit in the beginning of a relationship.
GIRLFRIEND: Yeah.  Funny thing about that.  Most people pretend a little bit. (spiraling tension) You became an entirely different person just to get me in the sack!

Both look away, brooding.

GIRLFRIEND: I mean, did you think I wouldn't catch on to your slip ups?  How long did you think you could keep this up?  Indefinitely?
BOYFRIEND: Look, I changed.
GIRLFRIEND: Yeah!  I got that memo.
BOYFRIEND: No. (reaches for GIRLFRIEND's hand)I mean you changed me.  I became the person I am with you.
GIRLFRIEND: So, now you truly hate guns, gambling, and cigar smoke?  'Cause you just told me that all was a lie.
BOYFRIEND: Babe, I--
GIRLFRIEND: No. (stands) You do not get to call me that. 
BOYFRIEND: I'm sorry, but--
GIRLFRIEND: No.  I have to relearn who the hell you are.  I don't know what was you and what was the you that you put inside my head.

BOYFRIEND stands and steps toward GIRLFRIEND

BOYFRIEND: So. (hopeful pause) Does that mean that you're going to give me a second chance?
GIRLFRIEND: (starts pacing, sits, stands, sits again, runs her hands through her hair) How long did you lie to me?
BOYFRIEND: (sits uneasily) Honestly, right up until we were watching this movie.  I couldn't keep doing this anymore.  I love you too much.
GIRLFRIEND: (blank stare towards imaginary TV in audience) You don't love me.
BOYFRIEND: Yes, I do!  (pleads on his knees, GIRLFRIEND refuses to look at him)
GIRLFRIEND: You lied to me for months.  Months.  (lost and hurt) You're not the person I thought you were.  The person I fell in love with.
BOYFRIEND: Please, just let me make it up to you.
GIRLFRIEND: (shoves BOYFRIEND away and stands apart) I need you to leave.
BOYFRIEND: Please don't do this!  I'm sorry!  I meant it when I said I couldn't do this any more.
GIRLFRIEND: Neither can I.


BOYFRIEND stands to face GIRLFRIEND's turned back.  Internal struggle, walks away and leaves through exterior door toward stage left.  GIRLFRIEND stands still until door closes.  Looks around her at the almost empty popcorn bowl, the door, off stage, and audience.  Rubs her arms, turns toward stage right and slowly climbs stairs off stage.

The World is what Makes Us

   Deleighla was a normal girl with an abnormal life.  When most children went to school, soccer practice, and then went home to their loving parents, Deleighla woke up in a foster home, didn't leave because she was homeschooled, and was sent to work, cleaning bedpans and toilet bowls for a psychiatric ward.
   She was quiet and obedient.
   Nobody even noticed the marks behind her knees and at her wrists. 

Artists, Fight for the Arts!

   Tell me my favorite song.
   Listen while I sing along.
   Show me that you truly care.
   About my secret love-affair--
   No, that's not right.
   That's totally the wrong light.
   I can't believe this mess I've made.
   How do I ever expect to get... paid?
   Ugh! People always demand so much.
   I just want to give them a good punch!
   So, my lines are weak and my rhymes are lame.
   I was never in this business for the fame.
   So, call me a dope.
   You can't take away my hope.
   One day you'll see,
   Just how great I can be.
   And the best part is, what you think of me doesn't really matter.
   Because I know that with passion and dedication, I can be better.

'Twas Not To Be

   There's been an accident.  The district attorney was on her way to the courthouse when an on-coming SUV ran a red light and T-boned the district attorney's car on the driver's side.  She did not survive the impact.
   
   .   .   .
   
   There's been a jail break.  One of New York's highest profile drug cartels escaped in the middle of the night.

   .   .   .

   He wanted to see his love one last time.

Sometimes...

   That afternoon, Alyssa had been anticipating her uncle's footsteps.  Lying in bed, her heart beat slower as she flung her pink, puffy cover over her head.
   Her uncle stopped just inside her bedroom door and flicked on the light.  "What are you doing in bed?" he asked.
   Alyssa groaned.  She kicked her feet, shuffling the sheets, burying herself deeper into the mattress.
   "I hate my life."

   "Sometimes... people die..."

Chores

   Spider.
   Meet Ruler.
   Swat!
   Shit!
   Swat! Swat! Swat!
   God, how I hate these--gaahh!
   Swat!
   Oh, thank Jesus it's dead.
   Egh.... Tissue!  I'll get a tissue.
   This is so gross.
   Wha--?!
   Oh, okay.  No guts on my finger.
   Still gonna bleach my hands with disinfectant though.
   Gah! So disgusting.
   "Doug!  I'm home.  Did you get the kids in bed?"
   "Yes, ma'am.  And I finished cleaning up around here too."

The True Meaning of Life

   "It's funny.... I'd thought Aunt Cheryl was religious."
   Young children ran around the lobby of the funeral home, tugging at their tight collars and pretty bows.
   Vern's neighbor asked, "What made you think that?"
   "I don't know," Vern said.  "I guess I just had it in my head that she was."
   "Well, she always made it clear to anyone listening: she wouldn't finance people who could easily condemn others."

Now Then, Moving On...

   "Class, a visual artist's inspiration is fueled by one's innermost passion, yet before any pen or brush stroke can effectively be made, every artist must first learn how to see.
   "That is where the beauty of art is stored--in the keen eye of the fervent artist."
   David raised a hand, "Professor?"
   Turning from the slide, "Yes?"
   "...That's two stick figures jerking off."
   "Two cavemen stick figures, strictly speaking."

The Ceiling Made of Glass

   The concrete tunnel of stairs went up and up and up, MJ's outstretched hand pulled her along the cold metal railing while her black pumps echoed around her with a slow, monotonous thud.  
   Why did I wear these shoes today?  she thought.  And all for nothing.
   Her conservative two-piece suit was the expected attire of any serious New York businesswoman.  
   I don't think I'll ever reach the top.

Dicks

   There was once a time when everything made sense.
   "You are a real sonuvabitch, you know that?"
   I couldn't tell you what changed.  And I couldn't tell you why either.
   "How the hell could you let this happen?"
   "Honestly," I said.  "It wasn't my fault."
   "Like Hell It Wasn't!"
   I can't say that I can totally disagree.
   But I can try.
   "Everything happened all at once--"
   "She was Drunk!"

A Whole New You

   No matter how hard he fought, he knew how it would all end.  He would be dead.  Another would take his place as husband, father, and soldier.  There would be no alternative.
   This had been his greatest battle.
   Blood soaked the white sheets as doctors whirled around him in a blur.
   As parts of his body were carried away and replaced, he smiled tightly.
   Soon he would be gone.

The Games We Play

   The irritation began soon after the young girl washed her hands in a creek and dried them with poison ivy leaves.  The itching spread with every scrape of her nail into a rash.
   Her mother thought nothing of it.
   "Just quit scratching and it'll go away," she said.
   Soon after, the girl's hands and throat began to swell.
   A little boy ran to the girl's mother and shouted, "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!  It was just a joke.  I didn't mean it."
   No vehicle could drive fast enough. 

Being a Hitman does have its Challenges

   I can't blame Suzanne for leaving.  But a dark part of me wants to.
   If I did, it wouldn't be enough for me to just think it--I'd have to do something about it.
   That's why I'm good at my job.  People have scary thoughts and can't follow through on them. They call me.
   Thinking and not doing is probably my biggest challenge.
   Not that I might get caught.

An Accident in my Youth

   Once when I was a child, I'd thought the world had stopped.  Everything was dark and silent.  At midnight, I prayed for a train to roll down the railway tracks, something to shake the floors and rattle the windows, something to let us know that we were not alone.  It was something that never came.  
   Not for me.  
   I was alone in the night.  
   And I would forever be alone, with only my hands as my guide, in the dark wilderness that consumed me completely.  

Tag Team

   Too many days have I gone without once having some cougar-hungry mountain man buy me a drink.

   Maybe I'm dressing too casually.  

   When I get off work I want to kick off the heels and pull back my hair.

   "Larry, can I have another martini?"

   "Sure--by the way," he added with a wink, "Banker Bill is on the market."

   Larry has always been so good to me.

#Rant

   Ranting isn't fun; it sometimes isn't healthy, but I do hate when I enjoy a good rant.  It brings the closet narcissist in me to center stage.  The one that always smiles for pictures, dances for attention, and sings for envious adoration.
   Sometimes even the words I say won't fit together perfectly, or make much sense--they just spit out snippets of bothersome information.  Too bothersome for even me. 

I had been Deceived

   When I pushed open the door with a boisterous creak, I knew what I'd see.  I just wished I were wrong.
   Clothes were strewn, blanketing the floor and hanging from the ceiling fan.
   It was the most disgusting sight I had ever seen.
   When my eyes finally reached my husband, he had a diaper in one hand and phone in the other.
   "Oh, thank God you're here," he said.

Long Time, Not Long Enough

   "Oh, yeah.   Things are great."  If I could say anything more sarcastic I would be shocked.  "What about you?"  But there's no way that I could be talking to anyone more oblivious and self-centered as Natalia.
   "Fantastique!"
   Oh, god.  French.
   Natalia fluffed her pink hair, "Just living the dream."
   I dearly wished her mountain of a ring would snag in her hair.
   Sucks seeing exes at class reunions.  

Yellow Hummer

   I was in a car crash once.
   I remember tasting blood, my heart stopping, glass shattering--the only thing I hadn't expected was the shakes.
   My heart pounded against my rib cage like the wings of a hunted turtle dove.  All the heat in my body rushed to my head, flooding it with confusion and leaving the rest of me shivering.
   It was the coldest I had ever felt, until I was standing in my living room and saw a yellow Hummer barreling straight towards me.  

Lesson for the Day: Listen and Learn

   Shelby asked, "Daddy, what does languid mean?"
   "Uhh," her father's brown eyes opened wide, "well, we should probably look it up in the dictionary."  He kicked in his recliner and walked to the bookshelf across the room.  "Where did you hear that word, honey?"
   "Mom told aunt Cheryl you've been languid ever since you said, 'I do.'  When was that, daddy?"
   "The only day I've ever outsmarted your mother."

The Wood

   As children, we'd always spent our summers playing in the wood.  Two scrawny boys could hide behind many a tree.
   Our father didn't see much harm in it, but he and mother would bicker and on occasion scream and holler over our being in the wood. 
   Whenever we could make out the words they were shouting at one another, we would run farther into the wood.  It may not have been the brightest idea, given what lay hidden in the deepest parts of the wood, but we were too young to be frightened and not old enough to be wise.
   On the days that it rained, we would stay indoors.  Father would read the paper, and mother would grin into her needlework.  When she would look over to us, on the floor and bored with our card game, she would smile with all of her teeth and then go back to grinning at her needle and thread.
   On one of those rainy days, father grunted and ruffled his paper.  It was something that he had done often, but he had never folded up the paper in a hurry and told mother to follow him like he did.
   We'd heard their bedroom door close, but try as we did--we couldn't hear what they were saying.  We looked at one another, and with that look we both thought, at least they're not yelling.
   They never told us what they'd talked about, but we were never allowed to go into the wood again.

Mother Marys

   Meredith and I started a church group called Mother Marys, where young, pregnant women can come into the house of God and pray for their unborn miracles.  We wanted to reach out and help those who have gone down the path of the unrighteous--bring them to see that their pleasures were sins and that to gain salvation, they must repent and pray for a blessed future.
   Many told us we were foolish--that the youth were an unreachable herd that had strayed too far from its shepherd.
   Yet we have been successful with thirteen young women these past three months.
   Those who doubted us asked how we did it.  How could we touch the hearts and souls of the far gone?
   We were once them--one of the forlorn--one of the damned.  I had no husband, Meredith is my daughter, and her daughter's only father is the Lord.  We are Mother Marys.  And we will carry on His work.

Be Careful What You Wish For

   As he walked down the crowded sidewalk, briefcase in hand, Rasheed's head spun round and round like an otter swimming loops through a river.  He raised his hand to steady his brow, and he wished that God would kneel down and pluck his head right off his shoulders like a child would a flower from its stem.
   Two weeks Rasheed had suffered in this way.  And, two weeks he had whispered gently to himself, promising that all will soon be righted.  The world and his body would soon be realigned.
   God heard Rasheed's wish and chuckled a rumble through the sky.  He searched for Rasheed as He walked across the clouds, darkening them with His shadow.  He had heard Rasheed's troubled whispers and had become amused with the young businessman's thoughts.
   There was much yet to be done in this young man's life, yet God knew that the pain Rasheed hoped would dissipate would only pass with death.  Rasheed would become very successful in the next couple of years, provided he can overcome the temptation of insurmountable greed in the coming spring.
   God watched Rasheed closer.
   When spring came, a dark, cloudy day watched as Rasheed accepted a briefcase of laundered money in exchange for his silence.
   As Rasheed waited to cross the busy street, he again wished for God to put an end to the pain inside his head.  He wanted to enjoy himself and celebrate his lucky day without this dreadful, incessant ache.
   God heard Rasheed and agreed that it was the man's lucky day, for his pain would end once he took his seventh step across Booker Street.

The Unseen

   Many days before the first spring flower bloomed, the sun rose to meet a damp and dark morning.  The shipmen stretched their way to the docks, and the merchants tallied their books.  
   All around them the crumbling stone walls are silent and cold, waiting to be admired once again for their regality, but the wind just bends the leaves of grass, brushes through the sand, and chills the passersby.  

Letters from A.R.E., Seventh of Seven, 30 July 18--

Truly, if you were but a gentleman, I could address your latest letter in courteous terms, yet I find myself unable to even extend an amiable greeting!  This hackneyed display of incessant passion and devotion does not convince me even in the slightest of its sincerity.  You, my dear sir, I am now sure--hearing from a mutual acquaintance just before receiving your post--have never in your some five and thirty years expressed any emotion in truth.  Therefore, I am forced to deduce that this is all a rouse and not to be taken to heart, as a result, can you be astonished with my reaction of nothing less than hostility?  I will not be played as a doll, and I will not 'grace you' as you say, with my presence this coming season.  I wish you a bon vie, monsieur. --A.R.E.

Letters from A.R.E., Sixth of Seven, 9 June 18--

Sir, news has arrived of a very unprecedented matter.  Please refrain form attempting to ingratiate yourself to my already troubled heart that I had hardened against any future attempts of flattery.  And, do not say that I have lost hope of any happiness; I have only gained a rationale of which I fear you are clouding with suppressed emotions, when you should be using your better judgement.  And, I do take severe umbrage at your accusation that I am a 'prime example of the fickleness of a woman's love'.  My love is shown by my own sacrifice of selfish emotions, to leave you to a life of freedom from the fatal danger you are sure to meet in a life with me by your side.  It is the only way, and you will find my 'stubbornness' to be the victor due to my undying affection for your safety above my own happiness.--A.R.E.

Letters from A.R.E., Fifth of Seven, 25 May 18--

Mon ami, I cannot tell you how astonished I was to receive a letter from you.  Your perpetual silence seemed to be indicative of the truth I was unwilling to believe.  Forgive me then for my reproofs of long ago.  They were scornfully made, but I am afraid that no matter our wishes, the outcome must be as I have expressed previously.  Please do not be saddened by this answer that I am sure you were expecting, even as you were writing to me in apparent haste.  You know as well as I the misadventures that would follow us because of who we are, with nothing else considered, which would complicate our unique predicament.  I am sorry for being so foolish. --A.R.E.

Letters from A.R.E., Fourth of Seven, 18 April 18--

Darling friend, I am safe for the time being, yet I am not in confidence of being free à vie.  I will constantly live my life running from one or another.  I fear it will never come to a close.  What I have done will not be overlooked as we had hoped would transpire, what now feels ages--eons--ago.  I can honestly say that I have been a fool.  I have been imagining a life that could never--and was never--meant to be.  I should have understood when you ignored my hints of partnership, but it is as my dear girl said, 'Men will not easily be succumbed.'  Had I but set my vanity aside, and heeded her words, I may yet be in your favor. --A.R.E.

Letters from A.R.E., Third of Seven, 2 April 18--

Dearest, my intentions of writing cannot be fully expressed as for the insecurity of this page alighting eyes other than your own of a very precious hue.  I have tarried far too long and cannot wait a moment longer; I must depart.  I am distressed to have not heard your reply as of yet, but I can no longer hold myself to such vulnerability as has been a constant danger to me since last we met.  I am afraid that even by the time this reaches your long-missed hand, I will no longer be able to hope to hear your voice or see your passionate face.  I fear that those looking for me are close.  --A.R.E.

Letters from A.R.E., Second of Seven, 17 February 18--

My dear, please excuse me once more while I plea for your compassion.  I have found myself in the most troublesome conditions of which I could not do justice with a mere description à mote.  It does not--and has never--escaped my notice of an attachment that I am sure would only complicate our present situation; however, I dare say that your feelings have not proved themselves false.  On my behalf, I have never doubted my own sincerity; I only wish for you to measure my ma'at with your own heart.  I will await your reply with stifled breath. --A.R.E.

Letters from A.R.E., First of Seven, 23 January 18--

My dear comrade, I cannot find anywhere else to turn; I implore that you excuse me for not remaining true to our once strong truce and law of anonymity in the face of imminent danger.  Even now, I am sure that I am exposing ourselves to even more hostility, as my own safety--recent events have shown--is no longer of importance to any concerned.  Do not misunderstand me, my dear friend, I do not for a moment blame you for my present dilemma.  I take full responsibilities for the consequences of which I have brought upon myself.  
Au Revoir--A.R.E.

Wishing on a Star

   Not every girl can be a princess.  They may wish on a star every night before they bundle under the covers with their favorite stuffed pony, but how many of their wishes ever come true?
   To be admired, respected, to make a difference in the world, those were my wishes when my father named me heir to the throne.
   I guess his advisers had something "less strenuous" in mind.

Eternal Mother, Hathor

   On a starless, rainy night, eight hundred women stood their ground, defending the temple of Hathor against the anger of blood-hungry men.  Each man bore the talisman of Anubis, the god of death.  And every woman was marked with the ankh, the symbol for eternal life.
   The men wanted the women's sons for war and their daughters for love.  The men demanded the children be given into their care.  They claimed that they would provide for their young minds and show them worlds beyond their homeland.  The boys who could not soldier would serve, and the girls who could not bare would please the men with song and dance.  The men insisted that Hathor would be pleased to have her children embody the essence of her godly strengths.
   The women, unfooled, walked backward, chins high, forming a solid barrier to the temple's entrance.
   "You forget one thing," the women said.  "Hathor is also the goddess of motherhood.  And you will never make her children chattel to be abused, cattle to be saddled and stained, or shields in battle.  Her children are her own.  Protected."  
   The women never turned their backs to the men, and as one they shouted as fire rose from the trenches before them, "And you shall never have them!"

A Day in Paradise

   In the middle of the street, steam burst skyward, rattling the manhole cover, whistling like a kettle.  The people on the sidewalks and in the bumper to bumper traffic looked around, hoping someone would answer their question: what is going on?
   A jogger slowed to a stop, took out his earbud, and leaned toward a woman in a black two-piece suit.  "Is that sulfer--?"
   No one expected lava.

The Inner Struggle of a Troubled Soul

   You know that point when everything is going so fast and you know that you can't stop something terrible from happening, but you rush in slow-motion to try to stop the inevitable anyway?
   Yeah, I had one of those days.
   One of those years, actually.
   If you ever thought life was easy, or that you could be in complete control of your destiny...then you haven't yet lived.

A Little Green for a Sunday Afternoon

   Friends, James and Antonio grabbed their sunflower seeds and gloves, ready for a lazy Sunday afternoon tossing the ball around the park, but they weren't expecting to see Antonio's youngest sister, Nicole waiting for them.
   "Nikki!" Antonio called.  "Does mom know you're here?"
   She tossed her ball in the air, caught it, and blew a bubble with a loud pop, "'Course she does!"  Her bushy brown hair helped fill in her too-big baseball cap, but her worn glove fit just right.
   James, who had always thought of Nicole as the sister he never had, crossed his arms and crooked an eyebrow at the young girl, "Did she know you were here all alone?"
   "Ahh," she said, "don't gimme that."  She adjusted her cap and hit her glove.  "I'm with you guys.  You were just late."  She jumped from one foot to the other.  "Come on.  Let's play!"
   As Nicole ran to the park's ball field, the boys groaned and dragged their feet through the grass.
   "Welp," James said, "we can't just send her home."
   Antonio tilted his head in thought, "Or can we?" 
   By supper time, James and Nicole were chasing one another around the bases, while Antonio stood on the pitcher's mound, announcing the play-by-play with his fist as a microphone.  

Sailing in Deep, Dark Waters

   To many men, drunken hours on a midnight ship have not been the friendliest of times--as for me, well, the company is fine and although the bar is closed, the drinks keep coming.  It is quite an anomaly, I would suppose.  But perhaps not.
   My partner and I abandoned the dance floor hours ago.  We had a laugh and shared a drink, but an unpleasant odor from heaven knows where stifled our amorous mood rather quickly.  We joined a party of card players.  It was silly, but soon my money was on the table, and there I was gambling without my wits about me.
   They even got me to put up my yacht.
   I had hoped for it to be a rewarding evening, yet here I am with my dinner jacket in one hand and my empty wallet in the other.  
   My dance partner was the big winner and left without a word but had a big smile just for me.
   Boy, do I hate sharks.

Perpetual Agony

   It was a heavily overcast day.
   That morning's thunder storm had rattled everyone in the family.
   The mother and father were lying in bed, holding one another, when their children ran screaming into the master bedroom.
   The mother caressed the children while the father remained aloof.

                                             ...

   Today was a day just like that one had been all those years ago.
   Only...
   The children cried and the father remained aloof.

Pieces of a Troubled Marriage

   Broken shards of what was once her mother-in-law's crystal vase reflected a tall woman with curly brown hair crying in shame.  The heirloom had been left to her husband after his mother's death, and she had destroyed it.
   She dropped to her knees and gathered the pieces, ignoring how her hands stung.
   It had felt exhilarating--holding the vase above her head, feeling her insides jolt and prickle.  Her eyes had grown wide when the vase shattered.  
   A pile took shape under her bloody fingers as her husband's car pulled into the garage.
   "Good God!" he said, kneeling in front of his wife, "What did you do?!"
   He smelled of mint, and his clothes were rumpled.
   "How was your day, dear?"

Ch-Ch-Changes!

   "Panic.  Panic is the word that comes to mind," Curtis said to his new roommate down the hall.
   "Seriously?"
   "Yes!" Curtis exclaimed.  "I am not at all comfortable with this."  He marched down to where his roommate was sitting in the living room. 
   "You're the one who asked me to move in."
   "It's not that," he said holding up the bathroom trashcan.  "It's this."
   "...My old pads?"
   "Used!  Yes!"

Oy! Teenagers

   Sometimes I wonder why I wake up covered with chicken feathers and have a metallic taste in my mouth, but by now I've learned to just roll with it.
   The worst part is trying to get rid of all the feathers.  I can't wash them down a drain, because mom would just call a plumber and--Surprise!  How would I explain my way out of that one?  I can't throw them out my window.  Mom would find them in her garden when she's picking herbs or vegetables for lunch.  Flushing them in small groups down the toilet seems to be my most promising alternative, but just getting from my room down the hall past my little brother and sister's rooms to the main floor bathroom is challenging enough.
   Mom and dad always told me that I could talk to them no matter what.
   I think I'll pass on this one.

Thrifty Pinch

   Sylvia and her sister-in-law loved to shop at a local thrift store in their hometown, until one day they were walking downtown and saw a man running from the store with money flying behind him and a gun in his hand.
   Cries of help came from inside the store.
   The two called 911 and carefully stepped into the store.
   They shivered, because one gunman was still inside.

A Bright, Shinning Day at the Park

   Children of all the world run and play in the wooded city park as their parents watch in pairs or small, secluded groups.
   The grown ups read a block of the newspaper, answer a business call, or yell if their child wanders too far ahead of them.
   The children are laughing and leaping further ahead, growing together into young men and women of this world.
   Progress is already here.

A Surprise Wedding for the Reluctant Bride

   "Look, this is serious--I need you to bucker up, put on a nice, pretty dress, and walk out of this house."
  I hate it when my mother is bossy, especially when all she's doing is trying to get rid of me.  "I know you're up to something!  What's going on?  You can tell me!"
   "No, I can't," she shushed me.
   "Why Not?!"
   "Because you are your father's daughter."

What does it mean to be Brave?

   There was a time when I thought I could be brave, but looking at the point of my sword and the beast that stood before me, I knew I was a fool.
   I had never seen a creature like this--with fangs, fur, talons, and eyes red as the blood it has spilt from my dead companions around me.
   A snarl ripped from its snout.
   ... I sheathed my sword.

Irish Morning

   "Wake up," the bearded Irishman growled.  "No lass 'ill be fallin' for a bag-o-hay.  Up with ya," he said as he kicked dirt in the farm boy's face.  
   Caleb spit and raked his hands through his hair, then over his grimy face.  Crystal blue eyes pierced through the soot, "Suppose they'd like me like this, then?"
   "Sure!" the old man grinned.  "It's what they call a facial."