Laura Huffman

“It's Not a Good Time to be Alive” by Laura Huffman

Submitted to Contest #224

            Before the light of day a blinding flash of electrifying lightning bolted across the tar black sky like fireworks and lit up a second-floor bedroom where Wilma was rolling a dead man into a shitty smelling blanket soaked with urine. As a gust of wind and a downpour of heavy rain battered the windowpanes the lights flickered in the unheated mansion and went out. Cursing the dar...

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“Triangular Nightmare” by Laura Huffman

Submitted to Contest #145

With July’s rising temperatures and high humidity Wilma sat in the kitchen nook with a bottle of Coke. Wearing nylons and her ankle-length nursing gown she was over-heated and dehydrated.  Throughout the day the heat upstairs was unbearable. Every window was open in the mansion, but with no breeze, the oscillating fans in the residents’ rooms were only blowing hot air.              She removed the stethoscope from...

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“Planting a Friendship” by Laura Huffman

Submitted to Contest #143

After working all night in the mansion’s nursing home Kitty was too tired to take a bath and too wound up to sleep. From the kitchen she grabbed a cup of coffee and went to the back porch that overlooked downtown Des Moines.  She kicked off her nursing shoes and plopped on a wicker chair. Her soiled nursing uniform, once starched and ironed to perfection was now wrinkled and damp from perspiration.   As she unhooked ...

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“Stuck In Time” by Laura Huffman

Submitted to Contest #140

      I’m still living in my own house, but it’s a daily struggle. I remember things that happened many years ago, but I can’t recall what I did yesterday, this morning, or an hour ago. Sometimes I know I have dementia, but other times I just don’t recall what the hell’s wrong with me. I can’t remember what I consumed for breakfast today, but I sure know what I ate when I was growing up on a farm. Fresh eggs were my favo...

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“Mixed Company” by Laura Huffman

“Grow up!” Wilma heard someone say from behind closed doors, not sure who said it, but not caring either. She had lost count of how many guests arrived at her Victorian mansion the night before for the 1963 Martin Luther King March. Several slept upstairs in the bedrooms. Others settled for the army cots in the basement. Many stayed in the servant’s quarters or the carriage house. And this morning Uncle Tom was snoring loudly on the back porch, most likely hungover from drinking too many Gin Ricky’s.

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“New Beginnings” by Laura Huffman

Submitted to Contest #137

           During the Great Depression a noisy old four-door Model A pickup rattled down my alleyway, dust swirling behind it. There were close to a dozen scruffy looking passengers that appeared to be a large family of migrants. When they parked beside my back porch I left my mansion to great them. The bed of the truck was piled high with various household items and topped with a dirt...

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