I refer to waterfall music a far distance from time’s corridor seeking secrets of forest lore sung with gentle notes upon the lyre. The wayward,…
Author: broussardlana
This is an old story that I wrote approximately 200 years ago, otherwise known as the 1990s, for a creative writing class that I was…
1736 Lamont Street. I knew this was the place when I first saw it. A stately Victorian tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. The…
In the tic tock moments of time distance drips from an IV as we realize the quality of permanence desperate attempts we all claw at…
So we left our heroine, Mary Ann Davis on the cusp of having entered the county beauty pageant to compete for prize money which she…
In case you need to read the previous: https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/2017/06/05/leaving-witt-2/ “So long, Eliza, see you tomorrow at school.” At school the next day, Joey stuffed…
It was the end of the day and my cousin Joey and I were skating in the concrete drainage ditch on the outskirts of town.…
Ah, April astounding us all draped in robes of beautiful cruelty snowing us with lilacs and luscious roses but taking things, once vibrant things returning…
Little dragons of the sand regal and small the flicker of a dark eye they watched there as we crafted hours of cousin play those…