Saturday, November 27, 2010

First Spotlighted Site Just Celebrated Two Second Year!

A teacup on a saucer.Image via Wikipedia
Stop for A Cup of Tea First!

When I first thought about spotlighting internet sites, it was as a response to a request from a new connection...and the first site I thought of was one I had recently been introduced to--The Write Place at the Write Time...

Welcome to The Write Place At the Write Time. We are a quarterly on-line literary magazine providing thought-provoking, engaging stories to our readers and fellow writers.  By clicking on Welcome, you will find the editorial staff and others who provide all that is good and beautiful available new each quarter!

I checked out the fiction section since I knew that Nicole and Denise had both provided stories for this quarter. Here's what's available--then just click and start reading!

Featured Stories:

"Choices"- by Linda Emma
"When the Devil Walked Through Salem"- by Denise Bouchard

"The Age of Choices
By Linda Emma

Trish wiped her hands dry and tried to remove the rest of the finger paint from beneath her nails. She felt a tug at her leg.

“Miss Trisha,” Tighe asked, “is this right?’

The little boy with milky dark skin and fiercely blue eyes had just shoved his art work at her, hitting her pant leg with the purpley mix of colors...

When the Devil Walked Through Salem
By Denise Bouchard

Each afternoon I read his letters as the gauzy muslin curtains fly in the breeze of this small cottage and I relive our early years together. His letters, our one year old daughter, these are the only two things that keep me from walking straight toward the seductive call of the waves.

My Dearest Emily,

The house is almost finished and I can barely wait to show it to you…

Say You'll Be My Darlin'

By Elizabeth Dunphey

People would talk about the 70s like it was the best decade or the worst. It was the years of Jimmy Carter saying he had sinful thoughts, and political chaos. Archie Bunker and that red head from One Day at a Time, Mackenzie Phillips, bone thin from drugs, toughing the real world out. Maybe the grooviest pot smoking songs in history. Dreamy people like Fleetwood Mac and Bread postulating an imaginary universe without violence...

The Age of Victoria
By Nicole M. Bouchard

With one hand behind him, his eyes closed and his back against the cherry wood hutch, he felt about the sapphire velvet-lined drawer with purpose. When his hand closed around the cool metal of his quest, he breathed a deep sigh of surrender. Round caliber, thirty-nine mm at muzzle, smooth bore barrel at three hundred and thirty-three mm; a British service blunderbuss that was used by the East India Company in the earlier part of the century. A symbol of the unyielding British fist-hold over the rest of the world. It seemed fitting given the circumstance of his defeat. She had been as bitterly cold and indifferent to his existence as the weapon he now held in his hand. Uninvited, she’d overtaken every natural resource he possessed using them to her own ends until she discovered the treasures stowed away in his heart. Her blue-blood veins showed beneath the porcelain skin as she seized the last of it in her hands, bleeding him dry.

Ad Vivum
By Bill Mesce

"OH! I'm sorry. Pardonnez moi, mademoiselle."

"Excuse me?"

"Ah! English?"

"American, actually."

At the Chelsea Restaurant
By Harvey Havel

My boyfriend and I decided on a late evening dinner down in Chelsea to a restaurant we know that served an excellent veal scaloppini for me, and for my boyfriend, he would be having the filet mignon, as he hadn't eaten a good cut of steak in a while. We both left our loft around nine o'clock and caught a cab into the heart of Chelsea, not far from the well-known Chelsea Hotel that had been completely restored and remodeled in recent years. The evening was cool and dry with a slight breeze that tickled my cheeks and hair, and I really felt that I had finally arrived at what life was supposed to be about for a recent college graduate; a loving, committed boyfriend, a good job in advertising, a loft in the East Village where we shared our bed, and now a cool evening where we could dress up for a change and walk hand-in-hand down Seventh Avenue. It felt regal to put on a skirt. We could even see a star or two up in the sky despite the tall skyscrapers and many lights that kept the city eternally aglow.

Enhanced by Zemanta

No comments:

Post a Comment