Mr. and Mrs. Haben – Flappers and Their Secrets

“It’s not right. Not fair!” Collette Haben slammed the hand-tied pink bouquet on the closed piano-forte in a flurry of petals and leaves. “It’s not. It’s not. It’s not!”             George, her husband and most frequent sparring partner, pressed two fingers between his eyes, grimacing like he always did. “Dear-”             “No!”             “My Dear,”

If One Man is Allowed to Kill Democracy

An ice-laden wind howled at my back, ripping and whipping unkept blonde strands across my face. No matter how many times I tried to combat my hair’s frenzy, they demanded one last dance, as though peeking out from under my hood would somehow convey a cry for help. Bitter laughter pushed through cracked lips. Help.

Black Until Proven Innocent

Because this isn’t a short story or fiction, I thought it best to leave this post here… *             *             * There’s something I’d like to share with you, with all of you, with anyone who might stumble upon this blog. You see, I haven’t been generating content for this site as of late. In truth,

Ice-Cream

“Out! Out! You get out of this house! Right now!” “Mom, you don’t under-” “No!” Tears exploded as her voice cracked. “How dare you sit here, at this table, and lecture me on-” “Mom, I’m not,” my voice was soft as my mother’s hands when I reached for them. “No!” but she startled away as