James watched the sun slide into the ocean and took another sip of his ginger ale. Maybe his decision to forego alcohol had been hasty. He was only thirty-eight. He was still in good shape, thanks to hitting the gym every morning before work. Work, of course, was not doing so well, not in this economy. Some of his investors had been devastated by the slump, but his own portfolio was already recovering.

My twelve-year-old is handling this better than me. The garbage can is overflowing with bags that can’t contain the rancid smell of rotting food. I go by my car for one more try. I’m surprised Tanya hasn’t already suggested going to her mother’s community – I have to start thinking of it that way, so I don’t call it a cult again. Still nothing – the car may as well be a rock for all the good it will do us. I sit back against the seat and one tear slides past my blinking eyes

Teens, a bonfire at the beach - a sweet story of a girl's first kiss.

When you die at the Stormcove, you go through intake, then stay at the Stormcove until you get used to being dead and are ready to transition - or stay. Rob, Annie, and Virginia are the Greeting Committee, awaiting four new residents.

I started the weekly newsletter several months ago and it's been arriving in subscriber mailboxes every Tuesday morning. However, now that I've added indie book reviews and started doing more with images, it's eating a large chunk of time I should be using to write other things - and I found I don't always have fresh "heads up" tidbits for writers, either. So, I'm skipping this Tuesday (2/17) and going to a second-and-fourth-Tuesday schedule. Instead of weekly, it will arriv

“I’m only here to please my mother. I tell her I’m not a child anymore, I’m an independent, self-supporting adult. But she still worries.” “So you’re here to alleviate your mother’s concerns.” Typical shrink talk. They were sitting facing each other across a narrow table, apparently the doctor’s workspace, papers and pens scattered all about. Jasper fidgeted nervously. What kind of therapist is this? Can’t he afford a couch? “There’s nothing wrong with me. I just like order