Tag Archives: Psychology

What They Never Told Me — Part 6 (Sins of the Mother)

Hot blood dripped down the back of my neck, slowly at first, the knife, my knife, still submerged in the spot Alice had struck me. My eyes were blurry. I strained, looking to see if Hawk was still breathing. I … Continue reading

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Waiting for Destruction

The smell of bacon wafted through the house. Coffee bubbled in its pot. Browned toast popped up from the toaster. Eggs lay scrambled in a pan. Sounds of small feet stomping down the stairs filled the room. I poured orange … Continue reading

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The Gift

  There was just one more gift under the tree, the small square box still wrapped in brown shipping paper, its top covered with silver tinsel and tiny flashing red, blue, and green bulbs. “Whose is that?” Michael asked. “It’s … Continue reading

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Remembering

There is an enchanting melody playing in my head: a symphony of sounds dancing on my eardrums. A composition: rhythmic, melodic. Wooden sticks knocking. Soft harmony, weaving in and out, tying notes in knots. Wind instruments shouting with squeaks and … Continue reading

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The Old Farmhouse

I walked to the end of the property and waited. My backpack on one shoulder, a small carryon next to my feet. I looked back at the old farmhouse, a two-story, twice-restored home to three generations of Malcolms, once thriving … Continue reading

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The Lucid Hours (Part 15)

*** I turned on the television and there on the Anderson Morning News was a picture of me, a younger picture from when I worked as a manager in a retail store and a mugshot of Casper (Mark Jennings) and … Continue reading

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The Lucid Hours (Part 11)

*** “I know a great place we can eat,” Delaney drove back onto the main street towards the eatery. “Where are we?” “Anderson…my grandparents lived a few miles from here. Every summer my brother and I visited. They had about … Continue reading

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The Lucid Hours (Part 6)

*** It was 3pm. I heard her small fist banging against the front door. I sat up, surrounded by stuff—a pink Hello Kitty blanket; a pillow with a dirty, yellow pillowcase; Lily’s doll, Tabitha, dressed in a lavender dress, her … Continue reading

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The Lucid Hours (Part 4)

*** We sat on the ground with our hands cuffed behind us, while the officers searched the van. Sargent Tilly took our ID and went back to her car.  “Why are you all out this early?” “Looking for Gruffalo,” the … Continue reading

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The Lucid Hours (Part 3)

*** Delaney let the van roll towards the police barricade, flashes of red and blue a visual disharmony that induced terror and idealized our primal responses. We raged and whimpered, flirted with death as officers waited with their guns drawn. … Continue reading

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