“It all comes back to a red metal bench in the woods, on a small hill by a nothing special pond. The air is sweet and wet and fall is here for now. Ducks sleep near the brisk, damp water waiting to take flight to sunnier places, offering no solution. I shiver and squirm in my own discomfort, clenching the bench, determined to will myself better. I’ll sit there god damn it, I’m as stubborn as you, until there is something to look forward to. I’m not pretending rosy and cheery just maybe a hint of curiosity.
yeah, I pretty much hate Christmas. New Years. Halloween. Easter. pretty much. The Vast Landscape – excerpt SNOW DRIFTS “They pull into the parking lot, awkward silence ping- pongs off the car doors. Harry’s face winces for a nano- second, quickly readjusting her posture. She doesn’t want her mother to see her contempt. Mother and daughter, one Christmas Eve long ago, walk into a deserted hospital, and the menacing halls, heading
The Vast Landscape sequel is getting closer. I have lived with and loved these characters so long it stings to say good-bye. Life carries on so that’s what we’ll do. Besides, sharing is good. Georgia Pine. – “Your family, our family is bound by deep love and tradition. We are not quitters; we are backwards optimists.” Praise for the authentic debut novel, The Vast Landscape by Jacqueline Cioffa “STUNNINGLY EMOTIONAL AND SOUL
Let’s face it; there’s no fooling. The sagging skin, the wrinkled face, the ridiculous forty something woman in short skirts and bottled-up Botox. The gravitational pull and the eventual flight back home were booked in advance. You already hold the winning ticket. I recognize the faces in the street, the fear, the familiar grimace and disgust at the sideways glance in the shop’s windowpane. I see the doubt, the two-second
I wrote EMBERS AND ASH some years ago, or so. I don’t remember the precise day, I remember the unhappy circumstance. I needed to come home. I was unwell. Truth, I was out of my fucking mind and the only person I wanted, needed and trusted was the one who birthed me. Her ferocious, constant, capable mother-love was the only thing that was not spinning out of control. The one I