Time To Feed My Reads

I laughed as Jake and Marie fought with the wrapping paper, shoving it at each other and trying to wrap it around their heads. At 4 years old, the twins constantly either played or fought.  “Okay, kiddos, time for bed.” They groaned like I knew they would, but then tossed the mangled paper on the floor and toddled up the stairs. I swiped it up and carried it with me to the kitchen to throw it away and get them their habitual last drink of water before settling in for the night. As I toted the half full glasses up the stairs, I heard them giggling in a conspiratorial fashion. I slowed down to give them time to cement their plans, then casually entered their room, feigning ignorance.     “Boo, Mommy!” they shrieked delightedly as I crossed the threshold.  I played along, yelling out and “accidentally” dumping the water over their tiny heads. They shrieked again then squealed protests at me and laughed. “Come on, get a towel and dry off.” I advised. I loved being a...

When the door opened, every face in the room lifted from his or her various distractions: cell phones, magazines, and nervously twisting hands. Yet another pair of hopeful eyes swept the small waiting area. Jobs were hard to find in this busy business district, and jobs that paid what this one was offering were nearly non-existent. The newly arrived young woman spotted the only remaining chair and sat stiffly, clutching her purse in her lap. Her skirt rode up over her knees and she worried that she should have worn different shoes. Her appearance today shouldn’t matter beyond looking clean and professional, but she knew that it did.    Across from the woman was a middle-aged man from West Africa. His suit and tie were respectable enough, but they did nothing to hide his age; the gray at his temples made sure of that. He was confident in his credentials, but worried that his strong accent would be a disadvantage. The extreme competition made nearly everything a disadvantage. ...

  The low branches of trees and undergrowth swished noisily as they were roughly shoved aside with callous disregard for their tender leaves. The furious face of a man emerged, his glare of hostility as hot as the sun that tried in vain to worm it's way through the heavy canopy. He had a rifle slung haphazardly over his shoulder as he sought the one who'd wronged him. He hunted her. **************** Two weeks ago, Manuel had been slouching in his favorite bar stool in his favorite hangout, Quirky's. It came by its name honestly and managed to attract the oddest clientele, but the beer was good so most people overlooked the idiosyncrasies of its various patrons. This was not a good place, however, to pick up women. Most women avoided it in favor of more popular, hipper clubs. They wanted to dance and meet young men. Quirky's had a nearly non-existent dance floor and the youngest man here was nearly 50. When she had strutted through the door it had been like a bre...

  The Ill-fated Ball 1918   “Lina, darling. You made it!”             Camilla greeted her with a kiss on each cheek.   Her teal gown was adorned with tiny beads that sparkled like the white lights surrounding the perimeter of the room.   The neckline showcased her generous curves, winning the attention of more than a few sets of eyes.                 “It's Mackenzie's doing.”             “Well, then, I really should thank the man. Come now. Let us find Belle. She'll be pleased to see you.”             They walked holding hands, threading their way through throngs of tuxedos. The women stood in one corner sharing gingerbread recipes and discussing the latest gossip that was sure to make its way into the society section of t...