There was water rising in the basement. Cold, dark, murky, slimy, water. Being a woman alone, a single mother, without a man, she had no idea what to do about it.
A short and sweet story about the meaningful things we allow our children to steal from us.
An inviting micro tale, full of warmth and nostalgia about a forgotten baby oak.
An intense piece of Flash Fiction about a Mothers life altering choice.
SOS! What do you do with a large—a very large—bagful of wild apples, hard and green and sized like golf balls? Google doesn’t have a page for this.
Refusing the apples is not an option. Ten-year-old squidgelet took a shopping…..