Janet Reid, Literary Agent: The So Long Colin, it was good to meet you Writing...

Revival Lesson

The traveling preacher is on fire,
speaking of Agape: nonsexual
love.  “Nonsensical love,” I say. For
what sort of love rejects the needs
of the beloved’s body? I shift my position on his lap as the tent flaps and
shudders in the wind.

On the last morning I plunge my hand into the chipped brown
pot put to use by the church ladies, and snatch utensils to ladle out
gummy mac-n-cheese. I nod, I smile, I scoop. 

“Good morning, Pastor.”

The deacons come, bearing a fat
envelope. My beloved turns his back and raises open hands.

Janet Reid, Literary Agent: Six of Crows Writing contest

Eleanor woke and went straight to the mirror. In the cold
light of the tiled bathroom her complexion looked gray. Crow’s feet bracketed
her eyes.

She had no weapons to hand so threw her expensive-but-useless
eye gel at the reflection. The plastic tube bounced off and hit her in the face.
It took the even more expensive jar of anti-aging cream to shatter the mirror.

Nick rolled over in bed. “Nightmare?” His voice was raspy from
last night’s whiskey. It was no secret that Eleanor wasn’t a morning person.

“You have no idea.” 

It was her sixtieth birthday.