My ethereal self, entered the dwelling. Each face be it native or white I saw clearly before me. The old ones and the women trying to protect the terrified little ones from the evil spirits of the white men who wandered the halls of this dusty house. Somehow, the...

FROM THE DARKNESS INTO LIGHT THROUGH A PROPHECY FULLFILLED. "When women were made breeding animals, books were burned, and all but the rich were denied education. Sent to labor in sweat shops, shipped off to fight in yet another war. The poor separated from each other...

Floating above my body, my long hair now streaked with gray, a spot of blood on my mouth from my last coughing fit, my skin now almost as pale as the white men that guarded us here at the reservation. I watched the nurses wrap my disease ridden body, in the thin...

Once upon a time when the world and I were young, my oldest sister would say to me: “Marta, you live on a rainbow.” When I asked her what she meant by it. She said to me, “no matter what life throws at you, you seem to bounce back up, and come out on the sunny side of...

A GLIMMER OF LIGHT Through the darkness l have walked Sometimes only a glimmer of light to see my way To the bright and sunny days, to come When that glorious world I behold will be mine For even in the dark and gloomy days A glimpse or a moment, a bit can be found...

LOST ALL LOST Why are you sitting there, old mother? In that wheelchair on the street, Clinging to your little dog and crying. Are you sick or just lost? Where is your family? Where is your home? Lost, all lost. First, they took away my Medicare And I couldn't get my...

To understand anyone, you must understand their parents and their siblings. At least that is my opinion. For I wouldn’t be who I am without the promise and heartache of my parents. My mom, came from what was referred to as ‘old money.’ Her first ancestor came to the...

PROLOGUE Until one has walked in another’s shoes, and lived their lives, we cannot know them. Nor should we judge them, instead offer a hand when we can. It’s odd how two lives can become so entwined that there are times you seem to be living the other person’s life...

  In the seventies, my husband lived in Algeria, he worked for an American company that was building a plant. Last night he was telling me about living in a communist country and what it was like for both the Algerians and those expatriates that were living...

Someday, Somewhere, Sometime In a far off land, when we are old and gray Or another lifetime, we’ll meet again, Perhaps we’ll have a feeling of familiarity? Maybe it will be a pleasant visit Or just a casual meeting That goes no further than that moment in time And...

Writing about war – Helen Carey It is hard to write a book at any time, but somehow, it’s even worse when the world is in such turmoil, especially if you are trying to write about war, as I am. I am currently writing a new novel set in the Second World War. Knowing...

So wrapped up in our own joys, sorrows, and heartache we sometimes forget those others that are also going through their own pain, joy, and heartache. I remember the fun times, the unhappy times, the times filled with challenges to be faced, and know that once again,...

“Chrome, Connella, I remembered Little Jimmy today,” Dinky said excitedly. “Who is Little Jimmy, Dinky,” Connella asked curiously “Little Jimmy, lived at the old stable with me. I didn’t see him much at first, for her was very sick, Connella. We all overheard the...

In the general scheme of things, one might wonder why a writer would build a world populated with mice and write about it. I don’t usually discuss my personal life or problems with many. But this time I’m going to tell you the truth behind The Mice of Barnville...

When I first decided to write Whispers on the Wind, it was to be a short, sweet romance story for Christmas. It morphed into a novel. My characters decided to take me along on a journey through legends, myths, and time. I wanted to stretch myself, and to write...

Today, I honor the work of all authors who have given us the beauty of their imaginations and the worlds they build. I’d like to give a big shout-out to all the authors who write to all the authors who put in so much research into their writing. Although I did a lot...

I often watch Dinky standing alone in the backfield looking out into the woods just as he did as a baby. He is fourteen now and still, there is at times that lost lonely little boy staring off into the distance, and I wonder what is he thinking? Is he remembering once...