http://slow.writerscafe.org/geraldrice76 The original writings of author geraldrice76 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775995355 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 By all rights, this man should have been dead.  No pulse, no blood pressure, but he was moving.  Gene had had to strap him down to keep him from trying to get up. Every time he tried to look at that neck wound the man lunged at him, tried to bite him.There was no way Gene was going to ge.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/735154/  INT. The Debussey Living Room Karl paces nervously back and forth. Devalos and Fisk sit calmly on the couch watching him. DevalosWhat can you tell me about Mr. Gershonowicz? KarlHe’s my brother. DevalosAnd how did you two meet?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/340325/ This is a teleplay I wrote for the NBC show "Medium". They passed on it, but I thought it was still pretty decent. It concerns political pressure put on the DA's office to find a missing girl and a guy left for dead at the hospital. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/340319/ It lies in the middle of the road,Doll real and non-electric black,Crushed feathers painteddouble yellow,An illegible stare—Intact wings splayed—Perfectly performing parts of some broken machine,Windshield wipers on a totaled carOr foot on an amputated legThe silent unk.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/326771/   I was stopped behind a van at a red light when an old woman who could barely see over the steering wheel pulled in behind me. I noticed her almost immediately through the rearview mirror. She was alternately fussing with her hair and gripping the wheel, looking around and talking.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/321023/      He had to hurry. No one would believe him but he had to convince them of the terrible, terrible truth. He'd spent time frequently up in the mountains away from everyone, but he had to get back.He'd seen things on the other side that were absolutely terrible. Mth was gone&m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/321012/             Finally, Murray had achieved his dream. His own business. He stood in the middle of the display room, his hands on his hips surveying everything around him. An outdoorsman’s store. What a great idea going in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/319572/   “What?”“Yeah, I was coming to this part before Habib kicked us out. Todd’s kinda dead.”“What do you mean ‘kinda’?” Malo said.“Look at this.” Reager opened the book and flipped through clumps of pages un.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310378/   It’s funny how food inspires camaraderie. I’d warned them about eating the pie, but they all ate it and didn’t seem to be any worse for it. So I had a slice too. We were all hungry still and went to a coney on Six Mile to get some grub. Malo was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310377/  At the grounds of my apartment complex when realized I had walked all the way from Uturiasis’ house. I was in a fugue. Despite all the time spent unconscious over the past few days I was exhausted. My feet hurt, my back ached, my head throbbed. My tongue was thick w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310375/   Sometimes your life depends on confidence. If that were the case this time, then I was so about to be dead.I tried to pull my foot back, but that only threw me off balance and I stepped up to catch my balance. The first leg sank ankle deep, the second knee deep. It w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310374/   I haven’t exactly been honest about who I am. It’s sort of one of those things I’m not supposed to talk about. The wrong ears may hear and then there’s a load of trouble. For lack of a better term for it, I’m in a sort of spiritual witness.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310373/   I knew I was going to have to kill Mrs. Carter when she brought over the apple pie.            Cleaning Ma’s house had already been slow. When she showed up at the door everything slowed way down. She had that s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310372/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/310370/  I was sitting at the counter, finishing my cup of coffee when she came in. My face still stung from where Marjorie had smacked me when I looked up at six feet of goddess, long curly white blonde hair curling down to a thick black belt cinched around her small waist and long legs covered.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/308078/  Walter walked into his father’s study. He looked up and dropped his bowl of Fruit Loops, staring at the thing sitting in his father’s chair.            “Don’t scream?” it asked with a rumbling voice.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/306969/ A broken clock—tap-tap-tap, helloReread, re-read, I try but the numbers {Futile Struggle}Are not feeding in—Brain Gone Striking http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/306856/             “That’s right, John. You’re looking at the new veep of the whole Northeast Division.” Jack Tate sat behind an expansive wood desk with a giant plate glass window behind him that gave a view down on F.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/304105/  My breasts—I mean, your breastsAnd all the touching,The kissing, the twisting,Your fingers raking across my backThe skin beneath my fingernails,Jagged kisses taste of strawberriesand copper, butFrom whose mouth?A hand loses itself in a jungle of hairOr maybe just la.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/303427/  You came back to the car with two cups and a new stain on your shirt. It was hot outside, over ninety degrees, but we had an alien craving for something warm. You handed me a cup of coffee, even bad gas station coffee is good coffee, and took a sip of what smelled like hot chocolat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/293180/  “That thing,” Dr. Lake said, stumblin’ off the porch steps, “is evil. It’s unholy!” He fidgeted one-handed with his glasses, askew on his face, before leavin’ them be as he retreated to his car. The one eye had already swelled shut and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/292722/  I beat my brain.It didn’t listen.It makes a nasty habit of that.So I took it out with a bullet.Funny thing is…After, I couldn’t finish this po— http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/290501/ There was lightning in my head,—and in a second there were theThundering thoughts of you,Memories crawled down from the sky in a pitter-pat,And there I stood, on tippy-toed edgesLunging you into me as you lappedAcross my lip, contouring to my insideA chilly hug beneath my ribs,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/geraldrice76/290500/