http://slow.writerscafe.org/B%20MacGregor The original writings of author B MacGregor en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776033742 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A proposal of love from someone unworthy, but kind. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/609635/ "You didn’t realize how much Trinity affected you, until now.” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/608258/ “How about you Tuesday? Do you believe in ghosts?” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/608256/ They multiple--unmercifully. They grow in their numbers rapidly, easily taking over a small, unsupecting web site. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/607726/ My father, is dead. And now I struggle with my name. Saint, sinner, criminal, victim. I am all of these names. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/606653/ When I was a child, my favorite toy was a stuffed animal. It was a pink unicorn. I carried it everywhere. Where I went, it followed. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/606651/ Ladies, Gentlemen… I now give you Act 3. It’s the last one in this three act performance with a very limited engagement. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/606642/ I was twenty-three when I got my big break. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/606137/ The big terror is that it could always be worse.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/604614/ I was twenty-two when I broke the law. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/604096/ I was twenty-one when I experimented with things I shouldn’t… like love. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/604072/ I was eighteen when I was first touched. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603779/ I was seventeen when I received the best kiss of my life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603763/ You know it’s funny. When you watch two people dance, you tend to forget all about the murder and the burning bed. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603754/ Paradise, Iowa, does not exist. You got that. It doesn't exist. Any gossip about it is completely absurd. Gossip is just bad manners... until it begins to pay the bills. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603585/ Only in a small town can you have real enemies. This is how Sunny White, a newspaper publisher, dealt with her enemies. By the way, the parade was f*****g awesome. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603575/ Guilty. It's only one word, but what a word. It implies so much and seems too certain. It's easy and understood. My suspects are all guilty. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603500/ This is me. It's only one sentence, but it's a great sentence. Easy and understood. A single sentence can define us. Yes? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603408/ What's the most horrendous crime you can think of? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603262/ I love to dance. It makes me feel alive. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603254/ "What do you know to be true?" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603252/ Someone once told me a good love story is one sided and egocentric. A good love story is selfish. I believe it. I believe it with all of my broken heart. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/603091/ “Would you like a blanket or a pillow? You might as well make yourself comfortable,” the stewardess recommended. She paused long enough at our row to make certain the newbie was ok. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602816/ “You haven’t told me about your grandmother.” Tuesday stretched her legs, and slipped off her shoes. She eased further into her seat, despite how tight her seat belt confined her. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602813/ “I met my grandmother for the first time when I was sent to live with her. I’m nineteen, old enough to know better. My grandmother, on the other hand, is old—very old. I’m guessing around 190.” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602810/ “Boarding all rows for Flight 1604 from Chicago to Boston,” the stewardess finally announced. It was about time. The 10:20 PM flight was one hour past departure. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602806/ No matter what happens, just have faith and keep reading. It will be ok. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602802/ “Forgive me for this may be a longer story than you initially wanted to hear,” Gabe stated as he lit another cigarette. “But it’s the truth. And part of the truth is the journey to find it, right?” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602788/ Gabe meets Toby. The story of his farm begins. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602784/ Somewhere between life and death, between spring and autumn… one summer, on my farm for the lonely hearted, I wrote a letter to five complete strangers so they could be healed by my angel. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/B-MacGregor/602782/