The Waiting Room

As the month has ended and my story didn’t get shortlisted, I’m publishing it here. Requirements: 500 words, must use 3 specific words (I’m not mentioning them so you don’t look for them).

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Rachel L. MacAulay fictionI wrap my white robe a little tighter around my body and re-knot the tie. The woman sitting across from me in the waiting room catches my eye and offers a tight smile. We’re all nervous, this quarter-full room of white-robed women, waiting for results on scans and ultrasounds. This is the more serious room—the one down the hall is for routine exams and the annual boob mush. That room has an air of joviality while we wait strained, guarded, prepared. It’s the next step closer to the “Big C” diagnosis and all that it entails. Like a jury pool, this is a time when we don’t want to be picked. Continue reading

Pandora’s Box of Horrors (A horror writing exercise)

The requirements: Write a story of 500 words or less using this list of horrors supplied by individual writers in a Facebook Women’s Writer’s Group. (My word was Alzheimer’s, as you might have guessed).

Laundry, Shh, Spiders, Failure, Assault, Moist, Slice!, Exhole (as in “ass-hole ex”), Freakotomy, Disco, Underground, Procrastination, Stoic, Writing, Parasitic, Boredom, Suffocating, Rats, Bbbbbreathe, Procrastination, Politics, Failure, Monday, Childabuse, Infanticide, If, war, Alzheimer’s, Should’ve, Truth, Shvitz, life, diarrhea, Alone, Mother-in-law, Darkness, Infinite, Traffic, Debt, Disease, Forgetfulness, Blood, Clowns.

No big deal, right? Here’s mine: Continue reading

The Bottle (#WIP)

There was a bottle in the water. I noticed it first as a light movement out of the corner of my eye. I had been staring off across the water as I was apt to do, with my hands resting lightly on the pier railing and my right knee leaning into the perpendicular pole. At first I had tried to ignore it, but it hung as a question in my periphery, interrupting my reverie. Angry, I re-focused my gaze and looked straight at the movement. It was a bottle, moving up and down with the ebb and flow of the tide. I was intrigued. I needed to rescue it. Continue reading