Never to Have Loved at All

It feels like rain. All the time. Not the good kind that lulls you to sleep, drowns out the city and all its noise so you can get some rest; the kind that ruins parades, sends kids inside, the kind you try to read to, but the thunder scares you and you lose your place. The kind that overflows your gutters, leaves puddles in your path and a cascade right outside your door, so you can run to your car but you’ll still get soaked to the bone. The kind that isn’t warm, it’s cold. The kind that keeps you up all night, quoting Tennyson and thinking about the different kinds of rain.

Words at the End of the World

Exciting news!

The Write Place at the Write Time hosted a flash fiction contest, and my short story “Words at the End of the World” tied for third place!

The contest had a Mayan calendar theme. I just read the winning entries and I’m happy to be among them. I particularly like the first place story, an emotional piece called “Goodnight” by a very talented young writer named Kendall Junger. I really hope you’ll check these out.

You can read the winning entries here: