Tag: historical novels

Facetiming a very old friend

#RoaringTwenties #Writing What was it like in the 20s one-hundred years ago? Was life more simple then when it was finally acceptable to apply makeup in public, to strap a flask of moonshine beneath your dress and take a sip before voting for the… Continue Reading “Facetiming a very old friend”

The violence in apple pie

We finish our meal and Mother takes all the empty plates off the table and replaces them with the little ones made especially for slices of apple pie. I take my first bite. The crust is the perfect cover for the apples that melt… Continue Reading “The violence in apple pie”

Waiting for Rosie’s Cafe

Note: What were the chances I would find the word Willy-nilly (daily post) in one of my writings? As my kids used to say, “Random!” But here it is!   Excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket by C. Dennis-Willingham Mr. Leonard, Scooter, and Frank have… Continue Reading “Waiting for Rosie’s Cafe”


Sofie was naked, of course, having stripped off her clothing as soon as she returned from the fabric store. She didn’t bother transferring the eggs to a plate. She stood over them, eating from the skillet. Besides there was no one to talk to but… Continue Reading “Unhinged”

Bare Bones of Justice

      I feel woozy. Isaac’s baby sister had died too young and his brother had been murdered. “No need being mad at Uncle Elias,” Isaac says. “He’s seen more things than most of us. He knows the rules, the law of the… Continue Reading “Bare Bones of Justice”

That rare gift of laughter

One Thanksgiving when we lived in the Tourist Court, we had enough food for Mother to make a real meal, but it was Pooch who landed on Plymouth Rock. We didn’t have money to buy a turkey, but somehow Mother got hold of an… Continue Reading “That rare gift of laughter”


I can’t see anything out of the ordinary, only Olvie’s backyard. But I hear it. Words my mother has heard slammed in her direction. “<N…> lover!” the boys chant. Five of them emerge from the backyard bushes and run towards the front yard. I… Continue Reading “Haters”

Dog food Sandwich

Scooter grabs my hand when we head home from school. “Angry, angry,” he says. “You’re angry Scooter? How come?” “Farter’s angry.” I’m about to ask him how he knows when the Great Stupid Gatsby Franken-Farter rushes up behind us. He shoves my shoulder and… Continue Reading “Dog food Sandwich”

Well, look who showed up.

Halfway through our first lesson, the door opens in the back of the room. Miss Primrose stops talking about grammar. “Frank, I’m glad to see you made it to school,” she says.  I hear the whispers before I turn. When I do, my chin drops.… Continue Reading “Well, look who showed up.”


I set down my lunch sack, take off my Mary Janes, and step over a railroad tie that borders the sandbox. “Hey, Scoot,” I say. “Emmy!” he says without looking up from the hole he’s already made. “Dig for gold?” “How deep’s it buried?”… Continue Reading “Franken-Farter”