by Jocosa Wade | Sep 23, 2021 | Writing Practice
She was the cotton candy and carousels of county fairs. Her friends were the horses—energetic and grateful to be part of the inner circle. I daydreamed about horses going lame so there would be room for me. Understandable for a ten-year old boy. Sad for a...
by Jocosa Wade | Sep 15, 2021 | Writing Practice
Pinch me was the only thought in Jeandarc’s head while she watched the gallery door open, again and again, for more patrons. Yesterday, she turned twenty-eight; Today, she was celebrating the opening of her first New York Art Show. She worked hard to get here. But she...
by Jocosa Wade | Sep 8, 2021 | Writing Practice
If he hadn’t deserved it, Jeandarc would never have cut her brother in half. But he did, so she did— no regrets. She might’ve responded differently at another time, but an eight-year-old mind is a reactionary thing. Hannibal, her fourteen-year-old brother, had been...
by Jocosa Wade | Sep 1, 2021 | Writing Practice
Whenever I dip into childhood memories Mary Creswell appears. Waiflike with a bob of straighter than straight black hair and a covetable pointed nose. Every time she cried it sounded like she was laughing. The oldest of what would be six sisters— Irish twins, all— she...
