The inspiration … A story … “First right,” Jan waved the brochure, “This way, Stan!” He reluctantly trailed behind her. They’d scrimped and saved for this vacation. Bragging rights would last for years, yet on the shuttle Jan talked of little else but this exhibit. The room opened out, the ceiling soaring overhead, an honor guard at the far side window. As they approached Stan looked through the soldiers. The

The Inspiration: A story: There were broken lamps, muddy footprints, the endless parade of questions and kittens. She was a blur throughout the days, a whirling dervish of scabbed elbows and knobby knees. There were too many times I was exhausted and exasperated, thinking “Grow up! Grow up! Grow up!” And suddenly, too quickly, when I wasn’t looking – she did. The house fell quiet. I yearned to walk down

The inspiration: A story: She smiled at her son, and as she reached up to hug him she thought of the happy infant he had been. His fall off his first two-wheeler, the broken arm, scribbled birthday cards to her, and Little League trophies, his face as he saw his bride approach and the excitement in his voice when he told her of his first child. He looked down at

The inspiration: A story: Mother shushed the children as they tumbled, laughing, into the house. “Mam.” They fell silent, glancing at the ancient woman. Mother singled out Seth, “My eggs?” He grabbed his antigrav belt, hating his chore of chasing chickens out of the trees, avoiding their needle teeth, just so Mother had fresh eggs for breakfast. He ignored Mam, a First Wave, weeping over album images that rotated above

The inspiration: A story: Each day they went about their chores, the driving value of each action – “purpose.” He arrived in The Community and they thought him odd. He would wander the fields gazing at the sky. “Why?” they would ask. “Because it’s beautiful.” They would go away confused. He became focused on an activity, shaping, molding, sculpting. Ah! They thought. Finally! Purpose! “No. Because it’s beautiful.” In spite

The inspiration: A story: “He’s at it again, Mr. Tate.” Her cat answered with a yawn, returning to sleep. Gladys sighed, turning to peer through the curtains, watching her new neighbor silhouetted against a backyard fire. Gladys took pride her in observational skills, keeping a journal of neighborhood comings & goings, compiling gossip & license plates. The enigmatic newbie was an exciting addition. Odd night hours, odder night visitors, strange

The inspiration: A story: He loves visiting the nursery. Those sweet little faces! Such a change from his regular duties. “This is something new,” he points to the headphones that each little one wore. Mary smiles, “What with the longer waits, we just don’t have enough volunteers like we used to.” “Who wouldn’t love to sit here and cuddle?” She laughes, “How about asking some of yours? Why such sweet

The inspiration: A story: The warm breeze swirling around her. Her clothes were neatly folded, placed reverently amongst a struggling patch of wildflowers. She was alone, taking one long last look at the blue sky above, imaging the decaying buildings before her when they were new and bustling with people and purpose. Abandoned, few but academics and historians visited. She came to wander the land and honor the memories that

The inspiration: A story: He lies, deliciously spent, as she rolls off him. “Is it done?” She asks. The perfect nipples on the perfect breasts sway as she moves across the room. He swallows, wanting her again, what she does to him with her mouth, her hands … right now and forever. “Yes,” he answers. He recalls the ashen face of his wife, his weeping children, the reddened face of

The inspiration: A story: Nana’s funeral was barely over before my brothers started arguing over her will. I left them, slipping to the back porch. For as long as I could remember her hair was white, her skin unlined and she could hold me for hours with her adventure stories. It was more ornate sculpture than key and was the only thing I wanted from Nana along with my memories.