First-Line Friday Follow-up: Zucchini

I wasn't always a zucchini, and I think that's the important thing to remember.

First-Line Friday

I wasn't always a zucchini, and I think that's the important thing to remember.

Now your turn! E-mail us your story at gzorkme@gmail.com, and you may see it here on Tuesday!

Secret Slumber Party

There is a single night from my childhood that defined motherhood for me, at least motherhood done well.  This moment encapsulated the wisdom, power, grace, and love that children long to see in their mothers, and that I believe mothers hope to have.

First-line Follow-up: Valentine's Day 2004

This is the story of Valentine's Day 2004, a day that will live in infamy.  That was the day Centavo met Ouisie.  The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and Ouisie was wearing about a quart of cow manure.

When Sarah Met Clyve, Part 1

Not so terribly long ago, perhaps a couple of years, during the time that Sarah’s public history would place her in law school, she was working in our nation’s capital as a checkout clerk at a Mexican grocery store. She’d always loved going to the grocery store and took a peculiar pleasure in using self-checkout lanes so that she could experience the whole ordeal in Spanish. So, this had seemed like the logical next step in terms of doing what she loved.

Each day as she lovingly traveled to her tienda, she thought of what unusual root vegetables might arrive that day or what exotic supernatural trinkets the impulse buys at her checkout lane might include. And each day she passed a variety of panhandlers and other “street folk” (as she fondly thought of them.)

First-line Friday

This is the story of Valentine's Day 2004, a day that will live in infamy.

The Real Story

Some would have you believe that we met during the pursuit of noble things such as learning, art, or justice. While this is certainly a tidy fiction, a pretty façade on our partnership, the real story has merit of its own. And I believe you are ready for the truer, darker tale that lies at the foundation of our friendship.

A Day at the Zoo

Once upon a time, there was a hippolotafus. Her name was Pangarelle, and when she looked in the mirror, she loved what she saw. Every morning Pangarelle would leap out of bed, pirouette toward the full-length mirror hanging on the wall opposite her bed, and twirl before the mirror, fluttering her eyelashes at the beautiful creature she saw before her. Long, shapely feet (that were nearly as wide again,) knees that were perfectly angled and planed (they had four of each apiece,) a great, bushy tail (that was always perfectly coiffed,) matronly hips (usually draped in pleasingly maidenly taffeta,) a teensy (weensy) waist, and sugar-coated shoulders (delicious!) would greet her face (which was, incidentally, her favorite feature of them all.)

Nitwits and Oddmints

I awoke with a start, sitting stark upright in the bed. It was the third time that night.

Something had to be done.

The boy must be stopped.

First-line Friday

Once upon a time, there was a hippolotafus. Her name was Pangarelle, and when she looked in the mirror, she loved what she saw.

Now your turn! E-mail us your story at gzorkme@gmail.com, and you may see it here!