Author: Every Writer

That was the best I?d felt since we?d been together, waiting for the crash. Snow whipped past us as we started to reach 50 mph. I turned on a song I knew he hated. I took my hand out from under his and opened my window to feel the flurries slap my face. He asked me what the hell I was doing, and that?s when we heard it.

Sandra walked along the deserted paths of the beach front in the late afternoon of early autumn. In the car park there was one

We are announcing a new services from EWR. It seems like a natural progression for us to now offer free writing courses from EWR.

Dust has settled in the empty room where mice have found habitation among the spiders and spectres of empires lost in a game of chance. Once – who knows when – someone left a handprint in the dust.

It was a while before he spoke. With apparent unease, he strung words and uttered them in greater reluctance. The bonfire gleamed in his eyes, and each word slashed the air with a cold vibe, demanding absolute attention and a silence spread amongst the group.

Weathervane by Christina Isler “Honey, the package arrived!” I called to my husband. There was no pause in the typing

Born in socialist flavored independent India of ?68 . My earliest conscious memory: I was two and half, a soft bundle of flesh and bones, when I met with a nasty fire accident in the kitchen. Me lying on the rough coir mattress; my tummy swollen like a tender football because of the internal burns

The girl was naked; her back leaned against the birch tree like she was part of it. Blonde pieces of hair were turned white by the moon. You watched her from the old convertible your dad had given you; it’s top was stuck down behind the back seat.