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Kathleen March

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (398)

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Library

1494 Followers

902 Following

398 Stories

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Speak Easy

I have to write a speech and give it. This can’t be just any old speech, because I’ve won a drawing for everyday people who want to participate in the national convention for the Democratic party. Only one name was selected - mine. Oddly enough, there was no requirement to belong to the party; my friends submitted my name as a joke. Everybody who knows me is aware of how I have a very hard time speaking in public. I stammer and stutter, break out in a sweat that gives me a shiny face and drenches the back of my shirt. I look flustered and I ...

6 likes

Been broken

Excerpt 1, from article in a magazine on feminist issues: Been there, been broken. I identify, before woman, before heterosexual (just a little), as Broken. A broken person who is also a woman, which is adding to the impression of brokenness.  Excerpt number 2 Also, an inclination, one the opposite of suicide, consciously or unconsciously, tries to utilize breakage as an event or action that leads to new connections. Heals, guides, strengthens the phoenix.  I had been reading the magazine and got to thinking about how we are h...

6 likes

Akrasia, a story for everyone

I don’t recall when I first heard this story, and in fact I can’t even say for sure who told me it, but most likely it was my father or my mother. My grandmother wasn’t much for stories, unless they were about putting flowers in the urns on Memorial day. Nobody else ever took the time to tell me stories. That gives you an idea of my childhood. If I wanted stories, pretty or otherwise, I had to make them up for myself. Maybe that’s why I decided to become a writer. That also means that my stories are for me, so I write for myself. That’s not ...

6 likes

Thanks, but…

I’m in a communications group (yes, it’s a pretty vague name, but it works) at our local library and this month and next we’re discussing letter writing and whether it will disappear soon. This is a fascinating topic, and more than a little complex. We couldn’t get our heads around it for days, until we made up our minds to do something instead of just complaining. We decided to try to write letters ourselves and see what we discovered. To make success more likely, we agreed that notes, as in the note cards one purchases to send a short comm...

6 likes

The Last Shot

Sweet dreams are made of thisWho am I to disagree?I travel the world and the seven seasEverybody's looking for something Some of them want to use youSome of them want to get used by youSome of them want to abuse youSome of them want to be abused ~ Eurythmics Look, I won’t take up much of your time. What I want to say isn’t all that important, but I feel like I need to get it off my chest. Time is running out and I just have to say it. I’m just sitting here on my very comfortable couch, going through all the photos I’ve taken over time. Wel...

7 likes

Go Fish

Part 1The photographer captured an image that had something unexplainable about it. There was nothing special about the people (two of them) who were the focus of the camera’s eye. They were neither attractive nor unattractive and were in an outdoor space that had nothing spectacular about it. However, the photograph took on meanings nobody at the time could define. Maybe if we back up and take this step by step we can figure out what makes the people and the place so unique, so inexplicable. Inexplicable because it had survived threats to i...

6 likes

Ashes to Ashes

My homework was to do an analysis - any trusted literary theory was acceptable - of a poem or short story about either being an underdog or making a comeback. I didn’t think these two themes were all that related. Think about it. Underdog refers to a sports match or athletic event of some sort, where one side is thought to be a long shot for winning the competition. A comeback can refer to a performer - actor, musician - who is successful in returning to the limelight after a period of absence. The underdog is constantly competing with a sup...

5 likes

Words hurt

She was starting to feel desperate. Not only was she running out of time, but nobody would believe her. That was the reason she was running out of time: she'd put too much faith in the opinions of others and those opinions had undermined her own reasoning. Nevertheless, every time someone had objected to her ideas, some with minor reticence and others laughing out loud at her, she had gone back to the drawing board. She was not going to let a little rejection get the best of her, but it was so, so hard. Now there was only a week left to...

4 likes

The Walrus

I am he As you are he As you are me And we are all togetherSee how they run, Like pigs from a gun, See how they fly. I'm crying.~ The BeatlesRough diamonds may sometimes be mistaken for worthless pebbles. ~ Thomas Browne Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken. ~ Jane Austen Lavinia knew there was trouble ahead for her in Compostela. She had tried so hard to fit in, to keep from speaking when it wasn't necessary, and to refra...

5 likes

Home Is

"I wish we could stay here forever." ~ AnonymousHmmm. Wonder who wrote that? Wonder where 'here' is? Wonder who 'we' are? Are they lovers, an old married couple - who could also be lovers, when you think about it, and they must have been lovers once or they wouldn't have gotten married. Are they more than a couple, say, a family? All the same sex or a mixture? The same age or far apart in years? Something else puzzles me about these seven words, but I can't quite figure it out.This was the land's end: the last fingers, knuckled and rheumatic...

3 likes

Hot time (L2.18)

Lavinia looked up from the screen of her laptop, moved her head from side to side as she rubbed it with her right hand, leaving her left hand still an inch above the keyboard, as if she intended to go on writing with it. After she had massaged her neck enough, she lowered her right hand, shifted her weight slightly, then sighed, renewed the look of concentration on her face, then continued typing, slowly, one word at a time, as if determined to finish her task. It could have been me there in Lavinia’s place, and in a way it was, because I’m ...

4 likes

A biblioteca secreta (L 2..17)

Lavinia certainly hadn't forgotten about the secret library, known to her simply as a nosa biblioteca, 'our library'. However, she hadn't been able to return for several weeks. One reason was that she had been drawn by numerous threads of her research on Ruth Matilda Anderson, the photographer who had traveled to Galicia five times before the Spanish Civil War. She'd given up on tracing all of Ruth's routes, but had gone to a number of villages, towns, and cities. That had not been either a fruitful or a satisfying endeavor. She guessed the ...

4 likes

Want to play checkers?

My grandfather was not a nice man. That’s how I felt about him, honest to God. He was on the short side of tall, thin, a head of wavy hair he seemed quite proud of, from the way he combed it. At some point, that head of hair turned white, and I personally never saw him with any other color. With the years, he became quite gaunt, and though it’s hard to describe, his body also seemed to turn wavy, I mean, his shoulders turned forward, his back arched a bit, and his hips were set forward. Usually his clothes fit well and were always formal. He...

4 likes

Here

Here I am.I am always here.I am here even if nobody notices.Even if nobody cares.I am where I’m supposed to be.I am here. I read those phrases over and over. I copied them and reread them. They were always in the same place, which is where they were meant to be. I was not worried, since after so many years I felt they had no place else to go or to be. Still, I wanted to know why those words seemed so settled when my thoughts were not.  My thoughts were scattered like common pins when you knock their box off the edge of the table and the...

6 likes

ArtVan

Author’s First Note to Readers and Other Characters: The title of this story was taken from a group in Crossroads, Maine. The group… I didn’t want to seem to be plagiarizing their name, but rather am paying tribute to them for inspiring an interest in art among young people. Who can criticize what they do?  Their website says: “A Mobile Art Therapy Nonprofit in Maine. Established in 2004, ArtVan offers a safe, feedback-oriented environment for youth ages 3 to 17 and adults who may benefit from strengths-based art therapy. At no cost to&...

4 likes