The Invisible Man – A very short story

It’s six a.m. and as dark as the time we got caught in an underground tunnel in the middle of the night and suddenly all the lights went out.  So dark it makes no difference if the eyes are open or closed, the sense of touch will find the light switch long before sight will….

My father’s mother was Italian. She was really old the day I was born and realy old twenty years later on the day she died. My Italian Grandma wore a dark dress every day of her life, a dark knitted shall, and support hose that came up to her knees. Her shoes were sensible black…

My father sang a special song to me when I was a child, as I dug moats around my sand-castles and designed dixie-cup turrets atop the castle walls. I’ll never forget the day I heard the song being played on the radio. I’d had the idea my father had made it up, just for me….

    These are my dogs, the best little buddies a person could ask for. Rita is on the left, Maggie on the right. Without these two, I would be the size of the Goodyear blimp. They are, first and foremost, my exercise program. Rita and Maggie rise and shine with the crows every morning….

I’m not sure at what age we are considered “vintage,” but I’ve received notice of an upcoming event involving some very impressive “vintage” artists. In fact, the event is called “Vintage Watercolorists of Washington.” If you are a local art enthusiast, go online to sunnyshorestudio.com, and read about the impressive accomplishments of the featured artists….

    “Just think,” my neighbor encouraged, “over a thousand people’s worth of positive energy!” I was sold. That right there was the line that set me over the top. I’d never considered doing a half marathon (certainly never a whole one!) yet I was sold. Let’s face it, this is the end of a…