Stories tagged easter

Easter Oneday

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This tomb oozes sheet music boxing gloves wooden spoons blood tests garbage bags restraining orders beach towels divorce papers snapshots beer cans empty and full.

The Show Must Go On

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I had the idea for a pageant for my obedience school at spring graduation

Bunny Ears

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Word traveled fast at school on Monday. Emma Jakowski had actually captured him. He was being held in her dad's tool shed. Anyone who wanted to see him had to be in the Jakowski's backyard by 3:15 that afternoon, chocolate bunny ears in hand. It was no…

Was it Your Easter or Mine?

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I kissed you for that. I used my tongue.

Impetuous Daffodils

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...the daffodils will fling/ their yellow petals, taunting winter

Easter Trash

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I could smell the burgers and fries at Whataburger. My stomach growled but I was living on celery, tuna and water because Aaron had made a comment about my beer belly a couple of weeks ago. He put his fingers in my hair. He loved my long hair. I felt like

Food that Heals

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Unless you’ve been living under a rock these past five years, you’ve certainly heard of Patricia Little and the chocolate chip cookies that saved thousands. Nevertheless, let’s start from the beginning.

Breaking Eggs

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You want to read, you know where to click.


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Marge didn't eat lamb or pork.

Jump Jackson and the Second Easter Mystery

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Knowing this is too long for here I won't be crushed or enraged if no one has the time to read it. Also, it's not fiction.

The wooden man: 12 fragments for Easter

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The wooden man came to her in a cloud in a vision in a dream in a story. When he spoke, his tongue clacked against his teeth.——As soon as she woke up, she knew the wooden man was in her belly. She felt heavy with him, fatigued. All she wanted to eat was…


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This morning Katie and Jimmy are learning about the potters field—the one where Judas Iscariot was buried—from their grandma.

Napomo 17: April 19 – 24

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There are no inspirations./ There are only the things I like/ and the much more numerous// things I do not like.


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The sound wasn’t coming from her dream, it was coming from inside the house. Somewhere outside her bedroom the noise was gaining power. Each pitch climbed higher with the urgency of a smoke alarm. With hands over ears and a hazy brain she got up from her

April Haiku

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A sardonic moon/ surveys our plight and cackles.