Small Stories

a Mastodon-inspired collaboration

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smallstory

can you?

A day of folk assuming Can you? Will you? Have you? Why have you not? Here she can hide. For now. But for how long? #smallstories @nomadwarmachine June 26, 2017

invisible

I have a place I walk when I need to think. As I pass the smallest flowers and the trees, both grand and broken, the active thoughts in my brain slow. Sometimes I then hear a quiet truth from deep… Continue Reading →

served

It was another summer day in Seattle in 1990 on Capital Hill. I needed nails. I made my way to a small co-op a few blocks away on 15th. I looked like I belonged on the Hill. Young, bald, muscled,… Continue Reading →

drawing away

We have a large deer population on our 40+ acres. The does are so fat and sleek & the bucks snort with real vigor in the early morning hours. Our dogs go nuts when they see them. I was in… Continue Reading →

thelittlethings

Sometimes we get so lost on the big things, we forget the little things. A #smallstories We at https://youngwritersproject.org/ worked w. 7th graders who came onto our site to create Moth Stories. We had them: record a story; write another;… Continue Reading →

better cobblers

I am picking blackberries soon in the hedgerows and wild spaces. I know I could just plant rows and rows of them and pick easily and at will. I could have a nice legible blackberry row. But…the wild ones are… Continue Reading →

turtle savior

My wife called home on her way to work.She was distraught. “There’s a turtle upside down in the road and I was running so late I couldn’t stop.” I soothed her & said I would go right away to find… Continue Reading →

dancing in the text

You know when you are writing in a shared document and your friend from another time zone is writing at the same time, in the line just above you and completely unplanned, and it’s sort of like you’re dancing in… Continue Reading →

My chameleon

She was sitting, so peaceful, on the grass, under the tree. She was holding something in the palm of her hand. Gentle. “What do you have?” I asked. She held it up. Something shifted. “My chameleon,” she answered. “His name… Continue Reading →

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