If you missed our first session, here is the On Demand of it and let me tell you right now, it was FUEGO 🔥!
Aside from the amazing storytelling from 4 amazing people, I came away from it giving each of them a moniker that helped define, for me, the type of experience I had while listening to them read their work:
was definitely all about setting the scene. The sights. The sounds. The SMELLS! His descriptive abilities in his story were astounding.You can read Beheaded Recollection here while you listen to him read it to you.
You can read By the Skin of His Teeth here while you listen to her read it to you.
You can read Ad Me here while you listen (and watch) him read it to you.
And, with his permission, we are including his story in its entirety below:
MOTHER ← You can also read it here on his page.
I’ve always wanted a rose garden, a living vermillion blanket to cover my beds, to crawl under, be shielded by, protected with. I dream of lying in the earth and letting it grow over me, hide me, and in my dream the roots are not rough. I can picture the view up through the green stems and their swaying nubile buds, the sunlight coming through the thin membranes of leaves, illuminating dark veins against yellow-green hearts of plant life. I’ve always wanted a garden, but my thumbs are pink, fleshy colored — peach maybe. Moons of earth, crescents under my nails from clawing desperate grasping greedy handfuls of this thing we call Mother. I’ve always wanted a garden, but Mother doesn’t like the pinewood box I made for her. She’s always growing out of it. My, look how you’ve grown, you grow up so fast, you’re growing like a weed, little Mother. It’s time I trim you back, put you back in your box. You may outgrow it, you may even try to wither your way out of it, but you’re all mine now. No, your petty pyrrhic victories will only make me try harder. If you outgrow, I will cut you down, if you wither and dry, I will drown you back to life. You, dear Mother, may be the Queen of the chessboard, but I am the one playing the game. I will cultivate you, shape you, ply you into the pretty shapes I like. I will make a checkerboard of boxes and put you in whichever ones I see fit. If you’re good, if you bring me things good to eat and smell, I may even give you something to drink, if I remember. Don’t look so sad, Mother, don’t let your blooms droop and fall, I have plans for you. That natural beauty of yours is exquisite, we simply must display it behind this glass. That fruit of yours is delicious, I will ensure you grow enough for everyone to try it. You see, Mother, I am helping you — you should thank me. I have toiled and worked, soiled my hands and wiled away my days, all for you, all to make you more beautiful. I’ve always wanted a garden, and you do not need so much space. You fit just right in this clay pot, this pinewood box, this cozy bed. I’m as snug as a bug in an emerald rug. And the roots are not rough at all, really, they’re beginning to grow on me. Thank you, Mother, it’s beautiful, truly, just what I’ve always wanted.
Now I turn to you, the reader and listener to ask you some very important questions:
How did you like this format of inviting fiction writers on to read their work?
Who would you love to see come on for a future TiF Sociable? Make sure to at mention them so they know! 😉
In an ideal world where I had oodles of time, would you be willing to come on by and listen on a monthly or bi-monthly (meaning twice a month) basis?
If you are a writer of fiction and want to read your work on a future TiF Sociable, please leave me a comment down below! I will be jotting down the names of all those who are interested and reaching out mid-April to plan another one of these! If you were a part of this first experiment and would like to give it another go, by all means, let me know!
Join me for my next live video in the app.
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