Roses are related to strawberries. A strawberry (Fragaria x ananassa) isn't technically a berry, it's a receptable and has its fruits on the surface. They are called achenes, each a small, one seeded fruit with a hard covering that doesn't dehisce when ripe. I find that fascinating and wondered for ages how the plant supplied the achene with its nutrition. S...
Back to the Nightmare! Oh damn! I woke up. I'd only been dreaming. I was alone in my house. Oh Jesus, now I remember; my parents and brother had come and gone, I'd tried to eat, I'd gone in to lie down and watch some TV. I took one of those pills, and must have drifted off. What a dream, but it was only a dream. I checked the clock – 4:00 a.m. What day was...
It startled her like a piano chord being struck in the silence, resonating until it faded away. There was a sudden breeze that arrived with it, a surprisingly heated breath in the cool autumn air. The heat penetrated her jeans and light jacket, and goosebumps appeared across her flesh with an accompanying tickling of her flesh. The breeze passed, but the sen...
Part 1 Anyone who knew her and described her honestly would have said Amy Hollister was a bitch. Probably even her relatives would have said so, had any been unlucky enough to end up living anywhere near her. I was unlucky enough to own the house she moved next door to when she arrived in town. There was nothing she liked about me or anybody else she ran...
"Eric," he heard in fuzz. "Eric, Baby," he heard and felt his shoulders being jostled. "Erriic," Peggy sang. "Just five more minutes," he groaned into his pillow. "Wake up, sleepy-head. We gotta get moving, don't we?" "Why?" he said without moving. "Didn't you tell me the meetings start at nine?" "Yeah." "It's 7:45." "Oh CRAP!" he bolted. "My alarm...
"It's not you. Honestly, Harper. It's completely me." Our waitress awkwardly hovered over us, balancing our dinners. The poor girl looked extremely uncomfortable. I wondered if Glenn thought the cliche sounded better if he slipped in "honestly" and my name. Like I wouldn't care he was dumping me on New Year's Eve. That I would have to ring in the new year...
SO FAR: A jobless and sensitive young man becomes innocently associated with a bubbling woman in her late forties who lives alone on a vineyard out of Auckland, New Zealand. Nash is attracted because she drives a beautifully re-built and upgraded 1939 Chevy pick-up and with ease draws him from his 'shell'. Hope Honeybun's interest in young Mr Carson is that...
*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. Disclaimers. Yes, I need an editor and no I don't want an editor. If that bothers you, quit reading. Yes, it jumps around too much, yes there's too many people to keep track of, yes it's too long, yes it's too short, yes this is in the wrong category, yes...
Booker studied the painting with a critical eye. The colors were a mishmash of streaks and splatters, as if someone had tried to emulate Jesse Pollack. The effect was striking, if a bit off-putting. "Unexpected, yet appealing," a voice observed. Booker looked over. The man standing there was a few inches taller than him, a solid six feet high. He was youn...
This is an original work of fiction, written by The Wanderer. It is posted on this site with his permission. Once again I have to thank another author for solving a problem for me. I've had this scenario going around in my head for some months now and it was reading JPB's "Sally Goes To The Theatre" that switched the light on, so to speak. If you read that...