“It would be easy to kill you while you sleep.”
He rolls onto his side and faces his wife, tangling his fingers in her hair. Her face is shrouded in a dried blue mask; an antiaging beauty product that has begun to peel. The moonlight peeking through the bedroom curtains makes her look already dead. Read more
The call had come at six-twelve precisely. It was second nature to him now to note the time by the illuminated dial of his electric bedside clock before he had switched on his lamp, a second after he had felt for and silenced the raucous insistence of the telephone…. Read more
High Interest, Low Reading Level – We All Deserve Great Stories by M.C. Perron After a long hiatus from the WCYR, I decided to attend Erin Thomas’ presentation as a way of coming back. I … Read more
I am alone. It is dark. I am cold. I am lost. No one understands. The ones who love me patiently support my efforts, but they cannot relate to my frustrations. No one gets it. … Read more
Variety Makes the Pages Turn Faster The first WCYR workshop of 2020 had us diving into pacing, with the amazing Kim McDougall. Having attended Kim’s workshops in the past, I knew this was going to … Read more
Rain.
It fell steadily on the city of Hypprux, a promise of the coming spring, but a cold, grudging one to be sure. The men who were repairing the roof of the cathedral had given up shortly after noon, and the shopkeepers had admitted defeat only a little while later, packing up their wares with numbed fingers, trudging into their homes soaked and shivering. Read more
A room filled with laughter and insightful prose – that is what Kirsten Koza brought to the WCYR Open House event in September. A travel writer and a leader of writer expeditions, Kirsten took us … Read more
That spring, rain fell in great sweeping gusts that rattled the rooftops. Water found its way into the smallest cracks and undermined the sturdiest foundations. Chunks of land that had been steady for generations fell like slag heaps on the roads below, taking houses and cars and swimming pools down with them. Trees fell over, crashed into power lines; electricity was lost. Rivers flooded their banks, washed across yards, ruined homes. People who loved each other snapped and fights erupted as the water rose and the rain continued. Read more
My house stands at the edge of the earth. Together, the house and I have held strong against the churning tides of Fundy. Two sisters, stubborn in our bones. Read more
Deputy Keith Clayton hadn’t heard them approach, and up close, he didn’t like the looks of them any more than he had the first time he’d seen them. The dog was part of it. He wasn’t fond of German shepherds, and this one, though he was standing quietly, reminded him of Panther, the police dog that rode with Deputy Kenny Moore and was quick to bite suspects in the crotch at the slightest command. Read more
After it’s over, of course, you want to kick yourself for all the things you didn’t see at the time. The Had-I-But-Known school of private investigation perhaps. My name is Kinsey Millhone and most of my reports begin the same way. I start by asserting who I am and what I do, as though by stating the same few basic facts I can make sense out of everything that comes afterward. Read more
