To understand my story, I guess I’d better start at the beginning. I was at one time, a story moderator for an online story site (not this one of course, but one like it). I was selected because someone liked what I wrote and thought I had potential. It came with a “lifetime” membership and access to moderator only forums on the site. These forums were for the most part, meant for us to ask questions, post issues with spe...

The glow of the neon sign lit her face as she walked into the bar with a Gibson Les Paul guitar strapped across her back and carrying an urn in her hands. She set the urn in an empty stool and sat next to it, hanging the guitar on the back of hers. “Two dirty martinis please!” she called out. The bartender mixed the drinks and placed them both in front of her. She slid one over to the urn and sipped her drink, wincing as...

I remember the day the call came in, June 21, 2013, two days after my fourth anniversary and just over three years from my last full-time work day. My husband had left the day before and was in New Mexico driving an eighteen-wheeler so we could make ends meet. I was sitting in my living room wearing my pajamas, chatting with him on the phone and having coffee. An email came in telling me that a principal had a fifth-grade...

I love rainy days. I find them romantic. How many romantic films and romantic comedies have a scene where the couple kisses or professes their love in the rain? Even my own husband proposed to me in the rain because I told him I thought kissing in the rain was romantic. Teaching elementary school almost made me hate rainy days. The kids are trapped inside all day, and often the teachers don’t get more than a bathroom brea...

I’m an under-appreciated, underpaid professional. I am belittled for working my chosen profession, told I whine too much and I should be grateful for all I have. After all, I live in America, I have a job, a place to live, a car, food in my refrigerator, clothes on my back, and yet, I’m not grateful. Why the hell should I be grateful? I am a teacher in a metropolitan district, and I’m treated liked shit. A while back I wa...

She stood outside the funeral home and told herself this was a mistake. She had been having this dialogue with herself since the day she saw the obituary in the paper. It’s not like she read those on a regular basis, in fact, she avoided this section of the paper like the plague because she found it morbid and creepy, but she was reading an article that had “continued on page” with her morning coffee and she turned to the...

It’s two in the morningA nightmare in my head.I reach across for comfortAnd find a dent in our bed. Where are you tonight?Why can’t I hold your hand?Are you in another town, city,Another state, or a foreign land? How long must I waitUntil you are near?Another day, a week,Will it be a month, or a year? How long will you stay?How much time to I get to enjoy you?A few days, a few weeks,Before you leave to do what you do. I l...