Of time now far past
Might some memory remain
Defying logic
Tag Archives: short story
Meghan Bode’s Wintry Tale — Part 1 of 2
The blog turns two on Thursday. And to celebrate, both the anniversary and Halloween, Meghan Bode has offered the following little treat from her past. The conclusion will post on Thursday.
silv’ry dusk descends
drawing form from snowy earth
surely eyes deceive Continue reading
Whither The Writer? 4/9/13
What now?
image credit: Microsoft clip art
That’s what I’ve been asking myself since last Tuesday, when we wrapped up Buried Deeds. As I neared the end of that story, I tried to visualize Tuesday posts without Meghan. Buried Deeds began on 20 November 2012. Meghan’s first story, still unnamed, began on 4 September 2012. Even before that, she first appeared as my nameless “poetic archaeologist” on 21 February 2012. Looking back, I realized she controlled most of my Tuesday posts for more than a year. Continue reading
Buried Deeds — Part 18 — Conclusion ( A Meghan Bode Mystery)
On the drive to Wyndham Thicket Farm, Meghan expects her phone to ring, with Evelyn or Douglas canceling her trip. But no calls interrupt her ride. She’s about to turn onto the farm lane when an oncoming truck drives in first. Jackson Carter waves back to her as they head up to the visitor’s lot and park. Continue reading
Buried Deeds — Part 17 ( A Meghan Bode Mystery)
The next morning, Meghan cancels her call to Evelyn in mid-dial. Douglas had requested she contact him with her research findings. But that was before she saw Frank Sloma leaving Douglas’s office building. There must be a connection. Still, Sandberg hasn’t returned her call. Maybe he learned one of the Brownes set the fire, and no serious crime was committed. Continue reading
Buried Deeds — Part 16 ( A Meghan Bode Mystery)
Meghan is among Saturday’s first arrivals at the Library of Virginia. Rick has taken John to his karate lessons and has promised to clean out the garage before she gets home. Continue reading
Buried Deeds — Part 15 ( A Meghan Bode Mystery)
Meghan swears under her breath when she finally finds an open spot in a parking garage near Douglas Browne’s law office in northwest DC. There’s no time to grab a cup of coffee before meeting with him. At least she’ll have only a short walk to the Metro station for her afternoon research at the National Archives.
She wears dress pants and a good blouse, but the outfit is no match for the receptionist’s designer suit and stiletto heels. The firm must pay the support staff well—or provide a clothing allowance. Douglas comes downstairs within only a few minutes. Continue reading
