Living with Tammy

These short stories are written as practices in writing and all are unedited and are not proofread The rumbling from the engine was making the nerves from his stomach spread to his legs, causing him to clamp them together in a desperate attempt. Frank was sitting in a small plane, no larger than the estate car his employer had sent to pick him up. After weeks of court battles, backroom talks, and judges threatening to throw everyone in the courtroom into jail, they managed to create a clean break. His client would be divorced, his now ex-wife would get a small fortune, but he would stay the very rich man he had always been. As a thanks the client had invited everyone at Frank’s law firm to experience something they had never done before. For most it meant being driven in a race car, a night at luxury hotels, it was only Frank that asked to see the world from high above. He had never been in a plane before, preferring instead to drive his car across the country to meet each new ...

These short stories are written as practices in writing and all are unedited and are not proofread The rain is pelting my umbrella as I walk down the dirt path; there is nothing interesting to see on either side. Just some grass with water droplets hanging from them. Still, it is better than looking ahead of me. For all the sound the umbrella makes as the rain comes pouring down, it does little to protect me from the water as I continue to walk.  I am Harriet one of the last true witches in this country and I am walking down this dirt road with nothing but a bag and an umbrella. Why am I walking down it you may wonder, well let me tell you dear reader that not all magic is grand and almost no magic is convenient.  According to many books; all I’d have to do to get dry was wave my wand and speak a few words in Latin. Fat lot of good that would do me, first, a wand is a one-time use thing, it can cast one spell and then ‘poof’ it disintegrates into ash.  Which is a...

These short stories are written as practices in writing and all are unedited and are not proofread There was nothing in the air that day, it was like the entire world decided to have a relaxing time of nothing.   For him it was different, there were several things that were weighing heavy on his mind. He had seen her again in his dreams, she was wearing the same clothes as always. The familiarity of who she was and how he knew her had lulled him into an even deeper sleep.   Yet, as he awoke the dream flitted away and he was left staring at the roof. He knew it would be years until the next time he'd see that dream again. So, in the silence of the morning he arose, stretching his arms in every way and hearing the click cracking of his spine echoing through the empty house.   The shower was quick and the coffee bitter. With a sigh he went up to his desk and opened his laptop. Knowing he would have to greet the artists. Finding joy in their midnight tal...