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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
Submitted to Contest #81
Pondo and Sylvia By Kathleen Brosius He was a tall man, handsome and rugged. His black hair fell over his ears and his blue eyes sparkled, especially when he gazed upon his beloved Sylvia. Pondo, as he was called, was an old rogue to some. Careless in dress, stubborn to conform to the changing demands of society, he spent most of his time on the river bottoms. He was a commercial fisherman. He bought a plot of land with a gunnysack full of moldy muskrat pelts and $30. Called...
Submitted to Contest #80
John Hanks, a Cousin By Kathleen M. Brosius “I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday.” Abraham Lincoln Rural life in Kentucky was difficult for folks early in the 19th Century. Subsistence farming was the prominent way of life, and people worked hard hoping that after the family was fed, there may be enough crops to sell. The death of a child was common during those years. Children often lost a parent or both due to the hardships, as well. During this time, young John Hanks found himself alone, hav...
Submitted to Contest #79
Rock Island By Kathleen M. Brosius February 5, 2021 A steak of lightning bolted across the sky. Kathy screeched and dropped to the ground, her best friend Barb landing on top of her. The afternoon sky had darkened considerably since the two arrived at the dock of the Washington Ferry. Their plans were to take the ferry from the tip of Door County across the, sometimes treacherous water, to Washington Island. From there, a ferry would take them to Rock Island. Cars were welcome on Washington Island, but tiny Rock Island was strictly for ped...
Submitted to Contest #78
A Hobo Hobby By Kathleen M. Brosius I was running late. Blame it on traffic, or maybe a phone call that took a moment too long. I ran to the hospital door and dashed to room number 209. “Katie dear,” he whispered. “I Daddy,” I leaned over him and kissed his cheek. “How ya feeling today?” His smile brightened his tired eyes. Those eyes. I could read his emotion by the look in those blue eyes. He was a storyteller. Through the years, I had listened to his stories—some joyful, some sad. He had an expression, through his eyes, for each. I sat...
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