Melissa Rose Boisclair

This one is based on a dream I had a long time ago. Honestly, some would call it a nightmare but I think I was too fascinated by everything I saw to be afraid, and in it, I found a valuable lesson.  Here is... Hell Inside   Elsie was thinking about hell again – not that she thought of it frequently. It was strictly an over-the-past-few-days kind of thing. No matter, all the thoughts eventually led back to the same place. The people in Hell were the people stupid enough to fall into it. She thought about all this while taking a smoke break out back. The kitchen was busy that night because it had been raining all day. Rainy days were tricky. Sometimes it kept people in, other times it drove them out. Either way, it meant extra work for her because the dim sum restaurant delivered. The crisp, post-rain air was nice. She re-did her pony tail so the heavy dark locks were off her neck, and laid a dry piece of cardboard down so she could sit on the top of the concrete

Here I go, late again but damn it, I finished. As no one probably noticed, I didn't set a theme for this month. I've been thinking of doing something a little different with this short story writing spree, but until I figure out more of the details I'll leave it at that and move on with the show. This newest work is a story about growing up and being different, two topics I think a lot about and which often reoccurs in my life in various ways. I'm not entirely pleased with this piece, but for how much I struggled with writing it, I think it turned out pretty good. Anyhow, without further ado I present, Growing Backward      A young woman sits alone in an old train car, her wool hat in her lap and her eyes more on the reflection in the glass than on the snow covered pine trees outside. The car is warm, but she hasn’t taken off her yellow jacket even though she had gotten on board five or six stops ago. Her name is Eliana, but sometimes it’s Jimena or Natalie,