http://slow.writerscafe.org/StephMcCracken The original writings of author ErithVert en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776027420 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15             Gale sat with her head on her chin until she felt as if her head and wrist had fused together and even then she waited until she had forgotten the unbearable numbness and all the other pressures of sitting in that small, hard chair. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2058000/         I waited for what felt like an impossible amount of time before realizing that it is all strange and hopeless. How silly- to doubt my self-worth according to anyone's perception- let alone my perception of their perception.     &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057996/                       Jake laid there unmoving as if not alive. Cassia reached over him and turned off the alarm.            “Time to wake up bu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057995/         "Goodnight little house. And goodnight mouse. Goodnight comb. And goodnight brush. Goodnight nobody...," He looked at the blank page. It was rather sad and strange for a children's book. It reminded him of the person missing from his life, his wife. She was gone.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057981/ Your eyes,There are timesWhen I think ofYour eyes,Or us kissing,But never you,Never you nakedOr alone.Or sad.I think about your hands,After all these years, I still remember them.I think about missing you,And how hard it was to give you up,And how I actually never did.There is your smile,Again.Your .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057971/ I can feel it behind my eyesI can feel it in my toes,He knows, oh he knows. It's in my blushed cheeks,Its all the way deep, deep.I can't hide it any longer,I can feel it in my sleep.I can see our hands now,Our fingers touching.I can see our laughing bodies,Lying in a field of plants.It's okay, I tel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057970/ I can't even think about itBut I must,Time does not stay stillFor children or babies.Time does not stay stillSo I must think about it,What it meansTo let a marriage die. It's like I can feel The rope slipping through my fingers.I can feel the air being pushedFrom my lungs.I can feel what that feels .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057742/ This is an excerpt from a fantasy novel I have been working on for years. After losing his family, Atticus is contemplating the unthinkable when he is rudely interrupted. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057692/ My boyfriend broke up with me recently. The happy memories would randomly flood into my mind at the most inconvenient moments. I thought about how I would love to just put them in a jar. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/2057691/ The loss of an imaginary friend is a loss of a true friend, let it be told. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351079/ A couple's song is a relic of a life shared together http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351062/                   Bluedishes, blue shower curtain, blue paint covered walls; all of the memories andall of the pictures. He was thinking about these things. Doyle held the guitarfor a moment longer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351050/ What is going on with the neighbors? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351044/ A part of a series I did a few years ago called 'Do I know You?' ...there is one curse word at the end. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351041/ A glimpse of the strange world of being a realtor http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351038/ This is a story I wrote but it is pretty much exactly how it really happened, a few years ago. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1351035/ Just for the 6 word story contest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1350775/ I wrote especially for the Joker competition :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1349772/ ...She would move to Arizona two months later. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1345925/ I wrote this for the Joy contest http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1345907/ “But the water...It is purple....” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1340367/ During an interview about her marvelously successful career as an architect, Belle DeTriev was asked about her abusive father... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1339893/ A children's poem (that doesn't rhyme :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1339887/             But you really had to be there to understand what hemeant to me. To see his huge, blonde beard, his sad blue eyes; to hear hisquiet and beautiful voice.             Bef.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337834/              Now he balls his fist. Everyone is looking at Albertoengulfed in his story. The pause is unbearable, everyone’s mouths were open.            “Mr.Car.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337831/ We are all disconnected from out neighbors http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337828/ What's left in the wake. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337598/ Sometimes when we get to know someone we meet a part of ourselves. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337594/ Isit normalForthe sky to be pale orange,Andthe wind to blowSoroughlyAsto shake my car?   AllI knew was I was meeting my sister.Thewhole day had been strangeAndthen out of nowherePeople werepopping up-Talkingto me as if it were thre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337583/ At themoment When all Iknew was turnedInto adragonAnd I fellhopelessIn the fieldof thornsI felt as ifI was an Italian motherWavinggoodbye to her eldest son,Or thatwoman who mailed lettersForseventeen yearsTo "theboy with the leather jacket".. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1337582/  Luis Curruso,Are you still waiting?Cause I am. And I have never been good at that,Among many other things, you are sure.And just as I was about to leave,You are standing at the door. Saying something about the truthOf objects as Plato h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1335934/ Very, very short http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1334264/ This was the beginning to a series of stories I wrote a few years ago. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1334255/ There issomething about themIsn’t there?There islove and tension at the same timeHarnessedand so vulnerable,Like wings,like music. There are somany thingsThat canbury, That canbruise youBut notthem. In fact itis like t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1334192/  "What is it like, your dad being dead?"  “ I feel like I lost my keys,Though I have not of course.The feeling is rather similar though. I have lost my keysAnd now nothing is important.My engagement, my car I know they are somewhere... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StephMcCracken/1334187/