Microcosms Flash Fiction. Treasured

It was only appropriate his guestroom held trains. Hundreds of them. In specially built shelves they lined the walls floor to ceiling, a miniature world spread out over the whole breadth of the room. Sitting on the ancient couch put us at eye level with the train table. Craning our heads 90 degrees allowed a… Continue reading Microcosms Flash Fiction. Treasured

Personal Journey

C is for Conniver

Conniver, third generation. That was me, per my grandpop. He used to tell me I was just like my mother and her mother. Even at ten years old I knew that wasn't a compliment. To be fair, Grandpop was right. My genetic predisposition for conniving would rear its ugly head whenever my little brother and… Continue reading C is for Conniver