Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Two readings and book signings coming up in our area.
Ruth Moose, teacher, poet, writer and novelist, will be reading and signing her new novel Doing it at the Dixie Dew on Friday, July 11, 3:30 pm at Chatham Business Services, 20 Sanford Road in Pittsboro. There will be a reception following the reading.
Paperbacks Plus! will host a book signing for Danielle Silver, a local Siler City author now living in Washington, DC. Her new book is A Beautiful Lie, first in a series to chronicle the life of a young woman. The book signing will be at Paperbacks Plus!, 208 E. Raleigh Street in Siler City on July 19, 11 am to 1 pm.
Posted by The Resident Curmudgeon at 1:49 PM
Friday, May 9, 2014
Pittsboro Writers' Morning Out fifth annual ultra flash fiction contest. The rules are simple. 300 words, including the title, but only words of one syllable
The 2014 winner is Glenn Cassidy
One Breath at a Time
Craig Smith could speak but one breath at a time; a word of two or more breaths and his mouth failed him. When asked where he went to school, he’d learned to say “George Wash Carve” like some kind of hip slang, like you’d feel dumb to let on the style was new to you.
Of course, the next words from his mouth would show his ruse. He could not say the name of his street, his state, or his town. Could not say his age.
As Craig searched for a seat at the mall food court one day, tray in hand, none seemed free at first. Then his eyes found the girl in blue in the back, fine as could be. Her eyes met his, then fled, as tense and full of fear as Craig’s own. He took a deep breath, walked up to her, and braved the flaw in his speech.
“Is this seat free?”
“Yes,” said the girl.
As they ate, sans words, both smiled. Could she feel the same spark he did?
“I’m Craig Smith.” He feared she’d have a name too long, a name he’d trip on each time he tried to say it. “What’s your name?”
Craig’s mouth turned up at the ends.
“What school do you go to?” he asked.
Kate’s eyes sagged like the weight of a ton of tears. “Mart Luth King Jun.”
Craig felt for her, for her speech flaw, shared the shame he knew stabbed at her heart. Yet a glow warmed in Craig’s chest, a light lit in his eyes, and he smiled.
“Mine’s George Wash Carve,” Craig beamed.
Kate’s eyes at last rose from the floor and dared to face his. And she beamed back.
Craig was in love.
Posted by The Resident Curmudgeon at 8:58 AM
Friday, May 2, 2014
Posted by The Resident Curmudgeon at 4:38 PM
Saturday, April 26, 2014
With a flash, a crack, you threaten my life.
I defy your hunger, sit on the side porch swinging
on this metal glider—a parched August afternoon.
You gush in, wipe sweat beads from my forehead,
blow around my ankles, pull wet hair from my shoulders,
open my shirt with your breath.
I drop my head back, inhale your promises, listen
as your rain pelts every oak and maple tree that lines
the street to my house. Ever near to me you draw,
then blow on by like some lover’s afterthought.
Posted by The Resident Curmudgeon at 6:31 AM
Thursday, April 24, 2014
At first our lives were measured in hours and days,
Marked by sleeping, crying, nursing, diaper changes and first smiles.
Marked by first steps, teeth, first words, stuffed animals and birthday photos.
Then it was in years,
Marked by new siblings, best friends, puberty, summer jobs, drivers’ ed,
graduations and beer parties.
At the peak it was in decades,
Marked by marriage, babies, new cars, family vacations, job changes and
new houses in unfamiliar cities.
Then it became years and months again,
Marked by grandchildren, retirement parties, social security checks, class
reunions and travels to exotic lands.
And now we live by days and hours again,
Marked by SMTWTFS pillboxes, doctors’ visits, dietetic meals and the
obituaries of old friends.
Posted by The Resident Curmudgeon at 4:55 PM