Lost Wisdom

Grandpa always claimed there was a fork at the end of the path behind his house: Candyland one way, the other a nightmarish landscape with monsters.

He could never remember which was which so we promised to go another day, but he died when I was eleven and I still haven’t picked which way to go.

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A Fire Blazes from the Ashes

I knew from the beginning I would be wed to my Lord, though I fought my father’s decision bitterly, having privately accepted my lot to rule my family’s lower household. Father longed to raise our name from ashes into greatness, however, so he offered me up to my Lord — a widowed, aging weasel, who had no heir to his name, his stature or his wealth — never guessing such dealings might breed a bitter, vindictive heart in his precious daughter.

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Alien Lovers

His name was not a sound it was an idea, somewhere between orange and warmth with hints of sincerity, kindness and reliability. Until this time he had been alone but now there was another and together they slipped across the landscape, scavenging at times, at others simply rejoicing in each other’s company.

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Oh the Irony

In therapy, my husband shared that he’s been having the same dream every night for a year, of a beautiful stranger who tells him she loves him, and bakes delicious cupcakes.

I met the real her at the local bakery today and we’re going away together this weekend; he’s going to be so pissed.

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Rating: 9.0/10 (11 votes cast)