A true story from my middle school days, I’m sharing the following story because I want to raise awareness of a very real issue that many people don’t consider: Never touch a disabled person’s mobility tool.
Category Archives: Writing
A WOMAN SAID SHE WOULD HAVE HAD AN ABORTION IF SHE KNEW HER DAUGHTER WOULD BE BLIND — A MINI MEMOIR
Disclaimer: This story deals with the subject of abortion. There is no explicit or graphic content, but if reading about abortion is difficult or triggering for you, I’d encourage you to think carefully about whether you want to continue reading or choose something else that I’ve written.
ANNOUNCING THE AUTHORS WITH DISABILITIES SHOWCASE!
When I mentioned to a friend that I was switching from posting on the blog twice a week to every other week to try and ease my mental stress, I was met with the exact validation I needed to hear: “Balance is the key.” But balance is a very hard thing to do well.
AN OPEN LETTER TO GOD AND MY GUIDE DOG
To God and my guide dog, Saint: Both of you know something that I want to know. But neither of you can tell me.
FINDING MY WHY — WHY I’M A WRITER AND WHY I ALWAYS WILL BE
If you follow me on Twitter (and no, this isn’t a self-promo), then you may have seen this thread that I posted recently: I just wrote what I intended to be a blog post, but wound up more like a journal entry.
THE UNHOLY CROSS — A SHORT STORY, PART TWO
Read The Unholy Cross, Part One here. TRIAL Pilate sits on an adorned chair, the pride of a Roman etched in his every feature. But in his eyes, there is a veiled glint of kindness, the glitter of hope that perhaps he will judge not as a Roman, but as a man.
THE UNHOLY CROSS — A SHORT STORY, PART ONE
HIDDEN Katriel kneels where the blood pools from his brother’s ribs. The knife, now stained crimson with his crime, seems to gather the moonlight and reflect it out, exposing him. He slips it beneath the fold of his cloak and with one last dismissive glance toward the pale face, turns away. Must leave now. Danger.
ANNIE — A SHORT STORY
It’s a quirky thing about people that when they know your name, they think they know you. Mrs. Biggs, for example. Every church has a Mrs. Biggs, middle-aged, nosy as all get out and entirely without shame. You know her; we all do.