http://slow.writerscafe.org/DanRyoma The original writings of author Dan Ryoma en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776046099 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 As I watched the cigarette smoke slip between my sister's pointed acrylic nails I tried to remember the awkward, freckled girl she used to be, imagining the lives of her dolls and preferring anything pink. I realized that at this point in our lives, whether she knew it or not, I was hea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/1453315/ You came from the shadow of the red brick,Hands quivering from the weight of the pistol.My face the gun kissed, my fall hysteric.I bled as you ran, my wallet a hole.Gone my proof of a life in the making,Unlike the mountainous mark I now don.Not simply money that you had taken.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/621931/ Katherine’s watch read six o’ clock the moment it wascrushed under the wheel of a white Ford truck. It was under this white truck whereKatherine’s watch lay in its own mechanical rubble, nestled in the warmdarkness of her brown leather purse. Katherine observed the parking s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/600762/ Forty minutes had passed since Margaret attempted to leave her white walled apartment without her brown leather purse in hand. For that forty minutes, Margaret had busied herself by running around her apartment searching for her beloved brown leather bag. She listened to her heels clacking as she r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/591933/ The instant Margaret Horn’s two lower right ribs broke into six pieces it was a Thursday and she was eight years, two months, and four days old. A year prior to the breaking of her two lower right ribs, Margaret quietly nodded when asked by her father, George Horn, to go to Brazil on another .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/591929/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/591926/ The cafe was busy as John walked through its heavy wooden doors. He waltzed through the cloud of noise to a small round table for two in the back where his ex-wife sat in a red coat. He dodged waiters and customers as they weaved through the maze of tables and took a seat in front of her; greeting .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/590120/ I took a break from pushing the lawn mower and stood in the freshly mowed grass to wipe the beads of sweat off of my forehead. I peered down to notice my shoes stained green and littered with spots of dried dirt. I could feel the sun beginning to burn the skin around the collar of my shirt. I fille.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/588549/ Surely enough the rain came pouring down on us, drowning her words and tears. Soon after, the angry look on her face drowned along with them. Her yelling reduced itself to an easing sigh and eventually silence. Even before what happened, I had always found her to be exceptionally beautiful in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/582429/ As I opened the lecture hall door and walked into the cold morning air I listened intently to the reason why my friend had dressed so nicely. When I see one of my peers dressed up I feel like something is going to go very wrong because of the simple fact that I'm wearing a pair of unwashed jeans. A.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/577904/ Jeffrey could only hear the tapping of his shoes as he was leaving the lobby. The doors slid open with a quiet wooshing sound. The sun was beaming viciously and the air was hot and dry, contrary the cool manufactured air inside. He stopped a moment to allow himself to prepare for the strenuous ta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/577696/ 100 words http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/574193/ I didn't cry the day she died.I didn't dine the day she died.I didn't feel the day she died.I didn't fear the day she died.I didn't drink the day she died.I didn't think the day she died.I tried and tried the day she died.I dialed and dialed the day she died.I compressed fifteen the day she died.I t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/547871/ The prologue to a book I've started. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/546436/ A woman troubled by the unknown that dwells within her home. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanRyoma/546299/