High Flying Adored #amwriting

Thank you to newbie Susan for undertaking Sunday Photo Fiction!


High Flying Adored

Granddad’s bucket list is going to kill me. But a promise is a promise. Personally, I think he’s also trying to cure my fear of heights brought on by his brother because he feels guilty about leaving me with him that day.

Last week we did skydiving. I think. I squeezed my eyes tight, felt my ears pop, all the while tightly tethered to a professional who knew when to open the chute. I did open my eyes just in time to get my legs under me for the landing. A win.

This week it’s air balloons in the Blue Ridge. I think this will be easier. I just have to stand there, right? And not look down.

But life isn’t fair, is it? The guy checking on the balloon is Jace, my ex-, the only man I’ve ever loved. A quick glance at Granddad, who averts his eyes and begins whistling Led Zeppelin’s “Over the Hills and Far Away,” tells me this is not an accident.

I guess it’s not only my fear of heights he’s trying to cure.

end 5/11/2018 (180 words)

Sascha Darlington



X is for Xanadu #atozchallenge #amwriting

AtoZChallenge 2018 X

I Give You Xanadu

My once fiancé promised me Xanadu, a home of notable wealth, modernity, and style, a place to keep me happy with everything I could possibly want, except for two: him and children. The first was not said although the second was. Continue reading

M is for Mount St. Helen’s, Mount Rainier #atozchallenge #amwriting

A vision of Mount Rainier.

This is fiction.

For My Mother

All of this before me. The shorn off mountain, devastation. A woman tossing peanuts to a ground squirrel next to the sign that prohibits feeding of wildlife. Laughter. Selfies. Children giggling, fighting. A man dropping trash. A couple groping while sitting on the stone wall. Continue reading

Burlington, VT #amwriting

Burlington, VT

She found love: blue eyes, British accent, funny, a buttery brown leather jacket she snuggled against when kisses left her breathless. Sean. But his destiny claimed a smoking (literally) platinum blonde.

She discovered “Dog” in Burlington and envisioned love.

Instead, she fell in love with Spring and Summer Burlington. She loved the watercolor landscape of sunsets on Lake Champlain, the easy-going laughter at the pub.

Driving, she heard Carly Simon’s anthem, “Let the Rivers Run,” her inspiration. She should move, renew life in Burlington. Green hills. Country. Hers.


“Dark winters. Lots of snow,” her friend, Andy, said.

“You won’t like it,” Sean said.

She applied for jobs. Returned for an interview. A week before her second interview, she hiked with Sean and wrenched her ankle.


Years later, with Sean, she considered the path not taken.

On sunny days, happiness sung in her heart. On rainy days, a phantom reached within, removed her soul, leaving her in heavy darkness and wondering: What if?

So many years later, at dinner, gray mottling hair, both tired, disgruntled, he, nevertheless invoked charm.

She loved.

The effort.

His understanding.

This path was hers.

All was right.

In the end, her heart was (w)on(e).



end 4/2/2018

Sascha Darlington

I’d Sacrifice Anything Come What Might


Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

I’d Sacrifice Anything Come What Might

The hotel on the canal is the ugliest establishment I’ve ever seen, but when we enter the dilapidated lobby, a Guatemalan woman is singing Sinatra’s “Oh, Look at Me Now.” I squeeze John’s hand. Serendipity. He smirks. Continue reading