Her Family of Cultures

This is the last Carrot Ranch flash fiction challenge until November 1. (Then it’s NaNoWriMo, yikes!)

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been struggling a bit with the writing and getting organized, however, that has been going on for around a year 😉 . Perhaps it has something to do with mars being in retrograde? (I’m kidding, it has everything to do with me and my own orbiting around the sun.)

So we were supposed to write about a parade of nations. Here is my effort. Continue reading


Review of Set the Night on Fire

Set the Night on Fire

Laura Trentham

Cottonbloom series

July 31, 2018

St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Blurb: From award winning author Laura Trentham comes Set the Night on Fire, a novel about starting over, finding your way back home―and falling head over heels. . .

Ella Boudreaux has a lot to prove to her family, friends, and foes―and to herself. So when her marriage ends she decides to invest her Continue reading

The Aunt

The Aunt Dancing is deep dream generated by Sascha Darlington


The Aunt

The Aunt assembles phyllo shells filled with fig preserves and brie while sipping her Manhattan. Needing another jar of preserves, she slips behind the kitchen to the pantry where her niece’s voice reverberates. Continue reading

The Opposite of Love #amwriting

for dVerse, where we are to write about opposites.

Deep Dream Generated by Sascha Darlington

The Opposite of Love

Relationships swing

like pendulums

with roles reversing

love to hate to love

to something else again

and maybe not all are like this. Continue reading

Happy Day #amwriting

PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

Thanks to Rochelle for providing Friday Fictioneers!

Happy Day

Today is dad’s 50th birthday. Mother cooks food to feed 100, invites not nearly that many, and pours alcohol like it’s flowing free from faucets. Continue reading

Quilt #amwriting


My mother has a quilt

made by hands

gnarled yet able

for a lost brother

I barely knew.

On sick days

she’d wrap me in the quilt

tell me the blanket

was love

to keep me warm

and safe

each square of fabric

something of his

sewn together

bound by thread

like family threads

even death

can’t break.

end 4/27/2017

S. Darlington

Coffee Perolator

When I was tiny, I would sit in my gran’s kitchen and listen to her coffee percolator. Like my mum’s Mr. Coffee, gran’s percolator made incredible sounds, burping and hissing, and I could close my eyes and dance in this aural world.

My gran would be on the phone talking to someone and I could hear her voice rise and fall, her accent a lullaby.

When I visited, she always had a can of tuna fish for me. I sound like a cat, but I loved it. She would drink her robust Colombian coffee and talk to me while I forked tuna from the can.

Her lips were dark red from lipstick, her hair henna reddened. She always wore pencil skirts, never once did I see her wear pants.

There was no doubt I was closer to my gran than my mum, but my mum, for some reason always jealous of her mum, wrecked that. When you’re a child and the adults around you are dysfunctional, you have to pick your battles and sometimes you must choose the wrong one to survive.

It’s only after the passage of years that regrets fill a book.



194 words

S. Darlington


Sanctuary dissolves like yellowed paper

Fragile to touch

Decaying to dust

Skimming the air

Solitary thoughts insistent

Reminding of child times

Rhymes, swinging feet kicked out

Soaring, pout gone, lips upward curved

Playing ball, tennis serve, camping

Ponies, kittens, soft purr, whiskers tickling

Prickling knowledge, all gone

Family like (distant) friends

Friends like family

Brambly path thorns catch skin

Spot of blood

Not thick.


end 7/26/2016 (2)

S. Darlington