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Deepest Treasures (part ten)

Mark posted to Ann’s writers’ blog every other day or so. Mark understood why Ann loved the group so dearly. They were amazingly supportive, giving Mark small pieces of advise on how to edit Ann’s work, encouraging him to leave some of her phrases and expressions, even if they weren’t necessarily standard English. 1,088 more words

Just Writing

Deepest Treasures (part nine)

The Tuesday after she’d responded to @junebuggie, Ann met Luke at the door with a smile he hadn’t seen in many months. “Wow,” he said, “Someone’s feeling good!” Mark greeted Luke. 557 more words

Just Writing

Deepest Treasures (part eight)

Mark started attending a support group for carers of dementia sufferers about a year after Ann was diagnosed. Ann had gone to the first meeting with him, but she was very uncomfortable. 564 more words

Just Writing

on nights like tonight

I really hate myself.

Not sure how I fucked up so bad. Who am I? Thefuck happened to me? I’m not a kid anymore and I just feel like I’ve let so many people down. 30 more words

So Called Life


Taller than the average woman at 5’11″, she wears heels because she loves them and won’t be denied the curvy calves.  But she compromises at a 1-inch elevation.   628 more words

Just Writing

In the Gloaming...

Dusk; the hazy boundary between night and day. The air is still and slightly moist. Woodsmoke curls up from the chimney, adding a rural fragrance to the air. 143 more words


Reducing My Life's Collection of Books to One Box

I stood looking at the boxes littered across the spare room at my mom’s house. They held my life’s collection, all the books I had read in my life. 577 more words