Educators and those who care about great public schools–be vigilant!
For now, here is one union’s thoughts here:
Entered a 53-Word Story Contest at Press Fifty-Three
Hilarious. I submitted a 53-word short story, not even flash fiction (more like whatwasthat fiction) here: 53-word story contest at Press Fifty-three.
What fun! Why not give a read there and try entering. Come on! Even I could write a 53-word story.
Erm….that’s usually just one of my quotations in a story or poem, so this was good practice!
Have fun!
Encirclement of Sparrows
Want to work on this one. To edit and revise.
This rough draft came out of a challenge to use the expression “an encirclement of birds”.
(First draft) Encirclement of Sparrows Roar like a train through the living room extra blankets on windows, surely frozen shut. Power lines down heat off, lights off, all shut down. Move away from the windows, he said. I want to be near when the sun rises, she said, You know me and sunshine-- I’ve got to-- I know he said, I know, and they huddled under yet another blanket and shut down.Listen, she whispered, hours or days or moments later,I hear the sunrise. Gray light through the curtains, and thentap, tap, tap on the tree branches scraping the windows an encirclement of sparrows.
“Between Sunlight and Skipping” (fiction)
I’d like to write more fiction. So many stories…
Between Sunlight and the Skipping
–by Laura Lee
(c) 2013
(Reprinted with permission; a version of this story was published in 2013 at Staxtes.com)
Last Sunday evening I decided to take a ride to a park and watch the sunset, but found the sunlight flooding my eyes. I reached for my sunglasses, remembering how often during the last several years I was one of those people driving at night while wearing sunglasses. I needed to hide my eyes.
“Excuse me! Lady!” Abdullah said, skipping from the porch to the garage.
Abdullah is a chubby black- haired boy who lives next door, a boy who seems to smile all the time. I noticed that he had on dark green sweat pants and wondered how he could be skipping in such heat. His older brother Hassan was still sitting on the stairs next door.
“Excuse me, please. Can I? Please, can I please…
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Prose Poem Draft “Didn’t Say Good bye”
(Note: I wrote this fictional prose poem after the devastating fire and explosion nearby that hurt more than a dozen teens in late April.)I didn’t Say Goodbye
Cool spring night in April. Red bud blooms just starting to soften, School nearly over— We wanted to say good bye.
A dozen gathered for fire and ghosts (We were too old for Ghost stories– We mostly laughed at them.) But huddled closer before the end of school We wanted to say good bye.
Nearly full moon peaked gold on the horizon, watching us, laughed at us a bit, hid back in the clouds then showed its silver side. Showed up in our ghost stories–the hide-and-seek moon.
We just wanted to say good bye.
Twelve, a dozen motley crew on a Saturday night, asking if it was time to go home, but no one wanted to leave the flames gold, flickering, magical like the moon’s silver— They held us in place. The talking stopped, but we were saying good bye.
I slipped away, knowing Mom needed me– I didn’t want to disturb them, my suddenly silent but free and sweet silver and gold friends. Flames calling me back but Mom needed me. I didn’t say good bye.
I heard it, the explosion. Ran back but I was too late. Faces, arms, hands just gone. Explosion then sirens and crying, sobbing and smells and screams
I didn’t get to say good bye.
Laura Lee 