real fiction

Billy walked through the side gate of a white-picket fence next to the detached garage at Mike’s house. It was beyond the midnight hour and the star-filled sky was accompanied with a full moon.
Billy was covered in a long, black overcoat. The wool collar was pulled up to cover his neck from the cold wind that blew through the streets of his somewhat normal, but otherwise suburban town.
His filthy, but untied, white shoelaces to his Continue reading

Being Thankful

Thanksgiving morning, November 27, 2014

I was raised in a decent sized family; however, years and distance as well as arguments, and in some cases, old age has changed the size of the guest list at my Thanksgiving dinner table.
The need for more tables and chairs and has dwindled down. There are no huge piles of coats on the bed in one of the bedrooms at say, my Aunt Sondra’s house, which I used to play in when I was little.
I used to hide beneath the pile of coats that were thrown on the bed . . . and I am not sure why I did this. I suppose hiding in a pile of coats and screaming “Roar,” or “Boo!” when someone came in to find their jacket is something little boys do—or at least it was something I did.

It has been decades since I Continue reading

Just for fun: Something For Hump Day

The light fell to the delicate flicker of two candles which stood in the corner of the bedroom. She moved from the bed and then over towards the closet door.
“Where are you going,” he asked.
“Nowhere,” she replied with a teasing smile.
“I just want to get something.”

Tucking herself behind the door of his walk-in closet, she undressed and slipped from her clothes. She reached down to retrieve the blue, buttoned down dress shirt he had been wearing that day.
She quickly slid her arms through the sleeves, and fluffed her long blonde hair over the collar.
She left the shirt unbuttoned to allow him a view of her cleavage, which pushed the shirt opened and teased him with an inside look of her well-shaped breasts.
Continue reading

Sunday Morning Thought

As I write to you, I am looking through my office window.
And I do this often.
I am watching the sunrise above the rooftops and above the telephone poles with wires that run and connect one house to the next. I drink from my coffee mug and take my moment of silence so I can ease into this last day of the week.

There is a slight wind picking up. The trees are swaying and the birds are beginning to chirp as morning takes its place. Much of the Continue reading

The Start of my Christmas List

We went passed the halfway mark of November and Christmas decorations have already dressed some of the buildings in Manhattan’s Eastside. Kids are preparing their Christmas lists while parents ready their boxes of holiday lights, tree decorations, and red stockings with white fluffy tops, and names written on them in script with glue and multicolored sparkles.

Soon every television commercial will tell us about holiday sales. Flyers will come in the mail and the race to the stores will become unbearable and painfully busy.

A friend of mine works Continue reading

I am thankful for . . .

We are moving into the season of hot apple cider and pumpkin spice lattes. My friend The Old Tree that stands across the street from my home is now like the others and completely leafless.
During the mornings, I step outside before sitting in my car and I look at the street at the end of my block. I stop for a moment and face the east.
The sky is in its early moments of change, and with the empty tree branches of tall trees poking above the houses in my community like black crooked fingers in the foreground; the colors of heaven vary in shades of orange and purple in the background.
The winds have lost their warmth and the Continue reading

A spoken word piece: Above all else

Above all else, I must not forget who I am or where I come from. I cannot ignore the various truths that detail my character; however, I must embrace all of my characteristics in order to grow.
And in order to grow, I cannot deny who I am or pretend to be someone other than me.

True—I am similar to others in many ways. But it is also Continue reading

Sunday Morning Thoughts from The Daddy Diaries

Does anyone remember Kick the Can?

Kick the Can was more involved than Hide and Seek or “Manhunt,” as we called it, which is the same thing, only Manhunt sounded much, much cooler.
Someone is “It,” and whoever that someone is; that person closes their eyes (without peeking) and counts while the other players hide to the best of their ability.
The “It” person counts to whatever number, say like Continue reading