Here’s the thing about motherhood: quitting isn’t an option. Her body overrun by little hands and feet, in her ears a never ending cacophony of mommy mommy mommy. She bore the onslaught with the regular aches and pains and an exhausted soul. Melissa Kelley
It supports your restless leg / while pressing the gas pedal towards the destination /after you asked it to show you the way. / Giving more than you bargained for, / it places two angels by your sides / so you can’t renounce your being, / nor walk the unfamiliar earth deserted. / As it were, the universe did its job, / and now it plays the harmonica at the base of your free will. / You asked, and it was answered, now what?! Ana Maria Macra
Its gables pointed self-righteously. Its arches ogled the sinners walking past in wide-eyed in disbelief. Autumn Ware
Right there on the ribbon below the Hunter family crest are the Latin words: Cursum Perficio, which roughly translate into, Stubborn as a Mule. Now the scientific part of me has a hard time grasping how a character trait can be passed down for centuries in the same family, but no head of the Clan, as far as I know, has ever lobbied to quit using the motto. Not an option. I guess it’s one of those self-descriptives phenomena that’s carried on a powerfully dominant gene. Probably the baldness gene. Chris Hunter
When you open the door, the beautiful scent hits you immediately - the combination of crushed pine, hot chocolate, cinnamon, and home - the inexplicable scent that sets you to ease immediately and brings you back to memories of when you were young. Cora Kaufman
So many options are placed in front of me each day. Too many options often bring on an indecision that feels like quicksand. When the feeling of sinking sets in, I don’t quit but I quit moving. I quit being so active and making so much noise. Most important is to quit being indecisive. Look out for the quicksand and steer clear of stepping into it. I can’t quit the quicksand once I’m in it and I can’t quit life. Quitting isn’t an option. Dom Wilkins
Quit? Don’t you dare. / You exist for many reasons. / Keep moving. Rest but don’t quit. Donna J.
If quitting isn’t an option and winning looks unlikely, the mediocrity leaves me unenthused, like a lukewarm bath, and most of Goldilocks experiences. Too soft, too lumpy, too chilly, too sticky, too - too. Yet onward we trudge, up the anthill, waiting on the world to change. Emily Carter
Unlike Dr. Z’s Mulberry Street my Main Street had only twelve billboards hawking, eleven shoppers gawking, ten lights not blinking, nine ladies chatting, eight trash bags blowing, seven mufflers farting, six alkies drinking, five children loose, four waving cops, three blue lights, two dead cats, and a sentence with a dull end. Geoffrey Sottong
A little mote of dust, I sat in the desert with my brothers and sisters for a thousand years. Two weeks ago a dust devil picked me up throwing me high into the atmosphere where I’ve been wandering. My thirst quenched, I was heavy with water in the cool, damp air when a little puff pushed me upward.... Suddenly vibrating, my watery shell began to spread and crystalize in a beautiful design I could have never dreamed of. I float now, slowly downward a glistening piece of art in the sky. Jack Ware
I got downstairs first, dread in my belly, knowing that good news never comes at 2:18 in the morning. ‘Who is it?’ I yell through the door as I turn on the porch light. ‘It’s Sarah from across the street, please open up!’ Now I have lived in this house for twenty years now and there has never been any Sarah that has lived across the street. Jen Heironimus
He wasn’t really scared, but it was more fun if you screamed. The other snowflakes knew that, too, and the air was full of their shouts and calls to each other. Jessi Waugh
“I know what you mean,” she said. “A true adventure tends to involve the unexpected. Initially, it can feel more like a disaster. Only after you settle in and start rolling with the punches does an experience become an adventure.” Joyce Allan
It shall begin and end with this bitter coldness which, in the end, is never metaphorical. Kat Jackson
2:18 a.m., Earth time. If there was ever a time when Bob needed a lucky charm, it was now, his back to the wall, an empty gun in his hand, and the loud crash of something pounding against the outer door of his wrecked spacecraft. Something monstrous. Still groggy from sleep, he rubbed his eyes and knew – this was no dream. Muffled reverberations shook the normally soundproof walls, and Bob pictured a huge fist tap tap tapping on his chamber door. Open up, or I’ll huff and I’ll puff ... he knew it was not a constructive thought. Mike Barton
“O.K. Whose job was it to take care of the booze?” “Same person that was supposed to take care of the lodge reservations?’ “No, she was supposed to take care of the luggage! Where are we anyway?” “I don’t know! Ask Miss “Leave-It-To-Me-I-Never-Get-Lost” over there, because, well she never gets lost!” “Well, Miss Leave.....” “Oh, shut up! Whaa! I’m lost and I you are too! And it’s snowing harder...where’s that booze? I’m stopping, waiting until a snowplow hits us and takes somewhere warm! “ Paula McComas
The morning waitress, with her scalloped white apron and pencil stuck into her hair behind her ear, motioned him to the end of the bar area and pointed him to the phone on the wall. “I would call the Sheriff direct rather than 911. He would be more prone to know what all he needs as far as help and all. His number is 611-2486” “Thank You Ma’am” Ridge began to sweat profusely as he dialed the number. For the first time he slowed down enough to allow the adrenalin pumping through him to overpower his senses. Rose Culbreth
The family moved on down the road, and Ginger watched them turn into the house’s driveway. She could swear the house was standing up straighter. Sarah Maury Swan
The gothic style house was alive, feeding off the energy of loneliness emitted from the occupants. It did so in completeness. Outside its structure were drugs, alcohol, and violence. Inside, the house protected the occupants and drained away their loneliness like a vampire. One day, someone posted a sign declaring the house historic. Stanley B. Trice
Aunt Monica, I don’t care if you saved the grass-stained jeans, I know you weren’t in Dallas on November 22nd back in 1963 because that’s my birthday, the day you drove your baby sister to Fargo General Hospital and talked her into naming me Frances because you had a dream that the names Frances and Fargo would one day be famously linked. Suzanne Wheatcraft
Most of the people here have some place to go. The Trailways pull in. People spill out. My writing has hit a dead spot. Thought I would hang around, do some character studies, cop a few conversations. A voice floats then glides, Sarah Lynn Gentry, my first love. I scan the crowd. A shock of strawberry blonde hair laced with sprigs of gray moves to my far left. After all this time. Trish Sheppard
“Until now, heroes only existed in stories. It was with an overwhelming responsibility that he realized…he had to be that hero.” Veronica Conejo
Her fingers pounded the keyboard like hammers, her hands shaking with rage. She had worked so hard and come so far in this job, but his endless harassment wouldn’t stop. She would never find another job this great, that she was so damn good at doing. And she was almost out of debt and would soon be able to even put away some savings. For the first time ever who life was on the right track. It would be perfect if it wasn’t for him. No, quitting wasn’t an option. But murder might be. Vic Mitchell
