I don’t know why her father, who is a good man, didn’t walk fifty yards and stop a beating that ended a boy’s life.
Category: Women’s fiction
Ray Welk, 1911-1962 (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
For years and years, Iris was the wife of the town’s only mortician. She’s popped in, treating me like a source of income, unannounced and unafraid.
That’s Not Love (A Harshbarger Mills Story, 1944
“Agnes, Woody Garrett is a married man.”
Agnes sat straight up. “But he said he loved me!”
That’s Not Love, part 3 (A Harshbarger Mills Story, 1944)
“Why do you think I brought you here?” he shouted.
“To propose?” Agnes stepped out from behind the bush, fully clothed but mostly unbuttoned.
That’s Not Love (A Harshbarger Mills story, 1944)
Agnes fell into his arms, and he’d taken off her clothes with an adeptness that was surprising for a country boy. Raw, green, fresh off the farm.
That’s Not Love! (a Harshbarger Mills story, 1944)
With wide eyes, Agnes listened to the most ingenious plan she’d ever heard. Cora lived in an “in case of emergency” mode.
Blanche Shaw, at the Edge
Blanche draws me by her very diffidence. She stands apart, looking unhappy and confused.
RISING, a short story by Joan Spilman
He reads something in my face I have no words for. “Okay,” Tim says. “You can have your divorce.”
Lumpy McFaye
“No, thanks. I’ve seen enough of human nature.”
Establishing Witness, conclusion
The preacher was a neat spare man in a yellow shirt and navy blue slacks. Had she not seen the maroon Bible pressed underneath his arm, she’d have mistaken him for a Vista Volunteer.
