Melisa Peterson Lewis
He pushes my head down, my neck bends awkwardly sending sharp pains down my back. Lights flash. It’s happening. I hacked a wrong move this time. “Watch yourself,” he grunts. If I were watching myself I wouldn’t be here. Maybe I deserve this. How could that be though? Does anyone ask to be manhandled and... Continue Reading →
I scream, but no one hears me over this noise. I can’t help myself. I scream again, it feels good to release my voice, even if no one pays attention. My legs burn, sweat drips over my brow. I keep moving almost involuntarily. So many hot and sticky bodies surround me. Our heads are filled... Continue Reading →
The mirror lied. Her spirit identified as a woman half her current age, and at forty-two the vision of herself balanced between unfair and not so bad. Her smile edged by wrinkles showed how often she laughed. Brown curly hair frizzed out beyond control, even after another product failed to save the day. Maybe her... Continue Reading →
As a writer, I am always naming new characters. I usually don’t struggle too long before I pick one, often they come to me and I stick with them. Though lately, I have changed two character’s names after someone pointed out how the name connected to something that didn’t favor my character. One question I... Continue Reading →
Guess what. You don't have to say, "He clapped his hands together." Do you know why? Because to make a clap, your hands come together, it's implied. I can simply say, "He clapped his hands." This may seem so small to someone who isn't a writer, but as a reader, you'll appreciate stories moving at... Continue Reading →
