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I know a lot about loss. My grandma died when I was seven. just 7!!!! Then my grandfather at 13 then my grandfather at 20 then grandma at 21 and FATHER at 25! My father! Are you kidding me?! my FATHER!!!

Posted By SF On 02.24.2012 @ 5:07 am

We say we love the rain but then we hide from it. We say we love people but we run from them. We say we love the mountains but we never take time to climb them. We say we love ourselves but we ruin them.

Posted By SF On 08.25.2011 @ 12:21 am

One time I was driving with my family and we saw a bunch of deer on a lawn. We were all taken aback, seeing as deer are usually in the woods, at least where I come from. So we slow down and stare at them for a while, in awe at how still they were, and then we realized they were fake. So we drove. And laughed at our insanity. And then they moved.

Posted By SF On 08.19.2011 @ 12:54 am

Threadless shirts are pretty cool if you are hipster I suppose. Threads’s loose on my comforter I need to cut it before it runs. So many things to do so little time to get them done. Time to go to bed I have to get up early. I don’t want to sleep but I will be sorry if I don’t

Posted By sf On 08.15.2011 @ 11:24 pm

The weeks have flown by since he left, but I still think about it as though it were yesterday. So much of my life has changed since then and I wonder how I would tell him about it if I ever saw him again.

Posted By SF On 10.25.2010 @ 5:08 am

I heard the panel discussion.

Posted By sf On 10.24.2010 @ 5:19 am

it was just a fragment a piece one that she shouldn’t have found but there it was among the ashes did he leave it there at the bottom of the stairs on purpose? urns don’t break easily she guessed that he had thrown it hard onto the concrete

Posted By sf On 04.07.2010 @ 11:19 am

What was it about the latch on this garden gate? She looked at it. It seemed like a trap, for some reason – but she put her hand on it anyway, and instantly the garden swallowed her alive.

Posted By SF On 01.11.2010 @ 3:01 pm

The clasp on her jacket kept opening, blowing the flap open and threatening to expose her. I should have worn a different coat, she thought. Going nude under a jacket was much more challenging than she thought it would be — when she’d gotten dressed, she hadn’t even considered what might happen at the security checkpoint.

Posted By SF On 12.28.2009 @ 8:37 pm

I appreciated transparency in most situations. The games girls play, the well-I-don’t-know-but-maybe-I’ll-pretend-to-like-you nonsense, they drive me crazy. The thing is… transparency is good in lots of settings. Just not in shirts.

Posted By SF On 11.29.2009 @ 10:33 pm

I was always an animal person until sugar died. She was my favorite cat.

Posted By sf On 11.15.2009 @ 3:35 pm

Virtual reality was taking over my real reality. When I had more friends online, across the globe, than I actually did in my own home town, I knew it was time to turn the computer off. It was, after all, a little ridiculous that nobody lived close enough to bring me dinner when I had a baby.

Posted By SF On 11.13.2009 @ 2:23 pm

Incense wafted out of the little shop in the alleyway. She hesitated at the door — being a good girl, she had never been into one of those shops, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to break that habit now. But it was the only place in the whole city to buy myrrh, and she had to know.

Posted By SF On 11.09.2009 @ 7:00 am

IT was a speckled frog. She squealed and put her hand in the tank, trying to catch it. “Want to snuggle!” she exclaimed. “No, no, Lacey,” Mommy warned, “froggies don’t snuggle.” Daddy should have gotten her a kitten instead.

Posted By SF On 11.06.2009 @ 6:12 am

Thou, O Lord, are a shield about me. You’re my glory, and the lifter of my head.

Posted By SF On 11.05.2009 @ 2:43 pm

He was certain that it was going to work this time — just like he was certain the time before, and the time before that. She was sick of the certainty. To her it waved like a red flag, saying, “STOP! The bridge is out ahead! This too will be a dismal, expensive failure!”

Posted By SF On 11.03.2009 @ 6:47 am

I hate being in the spotlight. Once I’m there, I’m fine, but I’d rather be an orchestrating, controlling background person who sees the big picture. Let others live in the glory — I’ll take the stage hand position any day.

Posted By SF On 11.24.2009 @ 2:34 pm

The windmill creaked. She stepped inside the darkened hole that posed as a door and called up to the machinery: “Hello?” What would have made the monkey dash in here?

Posted By SF On 11.21.2009 @ 10:19 pm

Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm has bound the restless wave! Please hear us when we call to thee for those in peril on the sea.

Posted By SF On 11.19.2009 @ 9:27 am

It’s late, and I’m tired. As I sit on the couch performing my wind-down procedure, I listen to an insane person walking down the street shouting obscenities, on the other side of the wall just behind my back. I’m curious to know what prompted his outburst. Hallucinogens? or an interaction with the cop car that I know was sitting just around the corner?

Posted By SF On 11.17.2009 @ 9:48 pm

He reached the pinnacle of the mountain, and there he was — the Sage, who looked to be about two hundred years old and was sitting in lotus position watching the clouds. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, “but I didn’t expect you would take this long.”

Posted By SF On 12.19.2009 @ 4:11 pm

I rapped along the wall slowly, listening for that hollow moment to end so I could attach the coat hook, but I never hit solid. Surely the sheetrock wasn’t magically suspended from the ceiling.

Posted By SF On 12.11.2009 @ 4:10 pm

sdfsd

Posted By sf On 10.09.2009 @ 11:25 pm

What was it with his arrows today? This was the Olympics, and he should have been shooting straight and true; but for some reason, all the skill that his country had placed hope in had suddenly deserted him. He couldn’t even hit the target for love or money. But practice time was up, so he put his toes on the line and shot — and missed.

Posted By SF On 10.31.2009 @ 7:04 am

Never run with scissors. I’ve heard it how many times? And yet there I was, with my eye mascara running down my face, liberally applying the scissors to my hair. It had been a point of pride for me — a point of contention between us, too. He’d asked me to cut it. I’d said no. So why was I chopping now, after he’d gone?

Posted By SF On 10.30.2009 @ 10:00 am

She slid his shoes on and went outside. The rain was falling steadily, dripping from the trees and drenching her thin sweater. It was good to be alive, she thought, and wondered when he’d be back.

Posted By SF On 10.29.2009 @ 6:00 am

I handed her the microphone. “You have to speak directly into the top,” I told her. “If you don’t, I can’t pick you up.” She nodded as if she understood, but the minute I got back to the sound board, it was evident that she didn’t get it. Or she wasn’t singing — I couldn’t be sure which. Why do they put people on the vocal team if they don’t like to sing?

Posted By SF On 10.27.2009 @ 2:28 pm

The day that my sibling came home, I wasn’t sure what to think… This tiny ball of flesh and hair. He cried incessantly when he came home.

Mother said that it was colic, and many babies get it. I thought that just meant annoying and damn loud. Though I found myself curiously caring for him…

Though not as I should have, perhaps… it was a great sin that I took upon myself years later, though I willingly became his slave for the sake of his love.

Posted By SF On 01.01.1970 @ 12:00 am