My name is Regina Grace Waverly DuMonde. To my grandfather, I am Regina Grace. To my father, I am Reggie. To my mother, I am Mountain Rose or sometimes Mountain Flower when she is in her times of madness and believes I am her daughter who died as a child on the Trail of Tears….
I don’t like perfect people. Their pristine looks and manners. Fastidious eye to fashion. Not a hair out of place, nor a wayward word or expression. They are, well, perfectly boring. Hamilton Hanover was just such a person. His golden curls always just so, as if he had just stepped off some Greek god’s pedestal…
I hesitate to post this because it’s purposely written in a rather disjointed fashion. However, we were discussing Viking settlements in America on the Books and Writers Literary Forum and I mentioned the saga of Freydís Eiríksdóttir, whom this is loosely based on. Someone there asked to see the story I’d written about her. This…
Grandpa Jacob thumped the Meerschaum pipe against his boot heel, knocking the ashes out of it onto the worn wooden porch. He pulled a leather tobacco pouch out and carefully tamped a fresh load into the ornately carved bowl. I scooted closer to his rocker so I could smell the fruity blend. Mama warned us…
Once again, I am scavenging from history. I can’t remember the woman’s name nor the Union commander’s, nor even where it takes place, but I think it was Louisiana. A company of Union soldiers came to a plantation and demanded the woman surrender it. She met him at the door with a knife and told…
This is a writing exercise based on the phrase “Love Keeps Me Warm.” Years ago I read a journal written by a Yankee soldier who had been captured by Confederates. He detailed his stay as a prisoner of war in Texas and spoke of the hardships suffered by both the captives and the Rebels keeping…
Decfun/Green exercise Copyright 2001 Julie Weathers All rights reserved Warning Martha and Tilly are browsing through Victoria’s Secrets again. Think Green Martha and Tilly stared at the notice on the bulletin board. The Old Gray Meres were fund raising again. Martha peered at the list of suggestions and snorted. “I ain’t wearing those stupid Dutch…
In case you missed it, Moonrat is having a party. Stop by and say hi to her. Martha peered in the screen door at her friend, who was hunched over with her head on the kitchen table. She better not be dead. “Tilley, what are you doing?” Tilley lifted her head and went to open…
Martha and Tilley walked into the banquet room and looked around. A blonde woman with a clipboard bustled about the room in a state of panic. She looked up at them and smiled, but it melted quickly, when she assessed them. “John,” she snapped her fingers at a walking acne treatment, “these ladies are lost….
Martha glanced back at the throne area. The woman with the biggest ostrich feather fan was clubbing the other fan bearer. She swung around, ducked a fan to the head and crouched down. ROBIN in big white letters was emblazoned across her purple silk-clad butt. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Martha said….