Fiction Writers' Platform

Though it’s but the second of November, Marjorie can already smell the damp despair of another South Georgia winter in the morning air. As tangible as the aroma of the bacon sizzling in the frying pan and the Folgers brewing in the coffeemaker, that odor of mildew and rotting vegetation manages to seep into the

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As a girl growing up in rural Georgia, Leona believed in God. Not that she saw any evidence to support this belief or possessed some mystical conviction based upon what Pastor Wiggins called “sheer blind faith.” Leona simply accepted God, much in the same way she accepted eight o’clock as being her bedtime, because that

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