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NYC down to earth diva. Creative writer, and professional freelancer
Photo by Nicole Baster on Unsplash

As the blossoms take center stage, a brown-breasted robin keeps me company atop a protruding granite beauty mark in a green meadow. She glances at me from the side of her beak, a trait of her weakness. Her genealogy protecting her from the likes of us straight gazed predators. A glance over my shoulder gives me the view of the back of a squirrel's fuzzy tail. He gives a nod back, and I think I see his tiny paws clasped around a teeny chalice. I am down the rabbit hole as if the sunset were a drop of acid.


A rekindled affair

Artwork by the author

I thought I was living with myself just fine, that is until I started dating myself. Then I discovered an impetuous, touchy clingy appendage who, unlike everyone else I could shake off during shut down was totally inseparable.

Let me back up. I, just like every other typical New Yorker, was deep in my grind. I had just added a new license to my professional resume and started a new job. Old blue eyes didn’t sing “If I can make it there I’ll make it anywhere” for nothing. It’s about hard work and New Yorkers know hard work pays off…

Photo taken by author in Arlington Vermont


As I walk the wind blows seemingly endlessly before me. As I reach the elm whose golden flakes dazzled me as they danced on the breeze, just ahead of me, gracefully touch the ground, where I am about to step. The wind is my flower girl, covering the walkway with gems of my youth. Always before me, the breeze stays a few steps ahead carpeting my path. If I try to catch up the golden plume’s touch remains elusive as my flower girl strengthens her gust, and stays ahead. I can hear it all around me the leaves buzzing…

Photo by Victor Rodriguez on Unsplash

The Storms Resolve

In response to Weeds and Wildflowers writing prompt “Surviving the Storm”

It comes rolling in like a forgotten memory. Hovering about in the sky to remind us that sunny days don’t last forever, the storm will not be ignored, it deserves its time of day. Its growl is low in its chest, a verbal warning of its capabilities. It can be felt like a caress of a purring kitten or a roar of a territorial lion, the energy of the brewing storm calling you to protect yourself, to batten down the hatches, comes as a loving nudge…

Music By Honey Root Video By Author

Photo by Nathan Queloz on Unsplash

“This is an opportunity of a lifetime.” Rylie reminds herself. The elevator doors open and Rylie steps in with the rest of the morning toilers to reach their various destinations. “Good morning” is exchanged all around, a pleasantry that was not extended outside the climbing vehicle. Maybe it’s the involuntary proximity that compelled the boxed inhabitants to give a traditional greeting. Rylie watches the fellow passengers exit on their various floors until she is the sole commuter on her way to the penthouse. The doors open with a ding, and Rylie steps into the buzzing suite. …

Why when we are at our coldest, in our most uncomfortable state so bare? The harshness of life leaves us vulnerable. Do we stand like a tree unashamed of our bare limbs and embrace the frost? The tree knows as its robing vibrantly parades its final act, then cascades to the earth leaving its sire without the gifts of its own essence, that now it must expose its true nature and endure the trial until it ceases to the spring. The tree knows that in this chill lies a lesson of its own soul’s endurance. It knows that after the…

Pipa placed the chicken pot pie in the oven looking forward to her Saturday night date with Tobias, this is the first time she’s cooked for him and she is simply giddy. It really doesn’t take much for Pipa to be happy though, and her happiness is infectious. She can light up a room with a flash of her smile. It radiates from within and has the ability to touch everyone in the room. This is also the first time Pipa has made a pot pie, she chose it because of it’s said ability to envelop the heart, and make…

By Aissa Martell

Photo by Piotr Makowski on Unsplash

The first to arrive is Julia, I know her, she wears bright red lipstick and her hair is the color of the night sky. She looks like a porcelain doll, like the ones in the glass cabinets at my friend Beth’s house. One that will never crack is what my mom says. Julia comes from what my mother calls hill billies. I don’t know what those are but Julia sometimes talks real slow, and her words have a funny accent. One night after a couple of glasses of the bitter juice my mom always serves, she said…

Photo by Charles 🇵🇭 on Unsplash

I am a match maker, a social psychologist, and a relationship therapist, I help people find love in the modern world. Everyone’s busy snapping pictures of their ding dongs these days, whether it’s the partner or the man himself. My professional mind weighed the behavioral aspects of this phenomenon, while my entrepreneurial mind, urged me to monopolize on the trend. So to get the ball rolling I decided to enlist the aid of a friend.

“So basically Muffy, you want to develop an app that identifies individuals by their genitals.”

“I want to develop an app that identifies males by…

Aissa Martell

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