Writing Haven
The car cracked and creaked, cooling after a full day of driving through the desert. How strange the way your face fades from my memories of that particular rest stop, that evening, that moment. Just the sounds of the car settling into the desert silence remains clear to me after all these years. That and…
He has a hickey on his neck and I didn’t put it there. He makes almost imperceptible twitching movements in his presleep vulnerability, with a hickey on his neck. Whoever put that mark on his pink and white freckled neck must know we are preparing to separate and she is getting nervy. “Oh what the…
5-15-2026 I’m reposting stories I’ve had on my website in the “Bonsai Trailer Court” section, for years. All the graphics attached to the stories I made with Photoshop and a Wacom tablet and they are also hella old. I’m not going to get cringy about my amateur digital graphics efforts. They are authentic efforts of…
The red light lit the cold room in irregular blinks, filling it with an erratic electric heartbeat. Noises from the street filtered in the partly opened window, kept in place by an ancient beer can, a brand of beer no longer made or sold in the city, Burgermeister Beer. Mom used to drink “Burgie” with her…
I didn’t realize how much effort it would take to just get to the beginning of the hiking trail. I got up early, put on my new hiking gear that took longer than I imagined, called a gig-car to take me to the car rental lot. I rented a car and headed to Marin county…
The first time she caught my eye was when I was waiting for my bus at the end of the workday. She seemed to float along with the crowd and stood out like a pink rose in a bush of brambles. My bus arrived and I tried to find her in the crowd, and she…
“I’m surprised to see you so soon,” I said to my coworker, who had been taken by the police to be questioned downtown, “I expected you to be there for days.” I motioned with my hand to get the attention of the bartender and pointed to my coworker. He understood I’d be buying this round….
I was relaxing, throwing Tarot cards, waiting for the knock on the door. I didn’t have an appointment scheduled. The cards told me an unexpected visitor was going to arrive soon. Some readers say that it is impossible to determine the time something is going to happen. Like the 2 of Wands could be 2…
My Mother – Myself: Glimpses into the Complicated Mother-Daughter Relationship by Bobbie Spivey (Author), Billie Ruth Furuichi (Author), Edy Henderson (Author) Format: Paperback In this collection of engaging short stories, 16 previously-published women authors reflect on heart-warming and heart-wrenching aspects of their relationship with their mothers. The editors, all published writers and experienced speakers, have shared “mother stories” with each other over a…
My mother is Japanese, born in Nagoya, Japan, 1931, and was a War Bride. My Father looked like Willie Nelson, White as he wanted to be, red hair with freckles, and was living in a trailer outside of Jackson, Mississippi, when he died. We’re the original Rice Crackers. I’m like a Nissan Truck: conceived in…