by Valorie Quesenberry | May 10, 2018 | beach, daughters, mothers, shells, short story, weddings
“I’m going to walk along the beach.” I drop the words over my shoulder as I walk past the recliner where my husband sits. I touch his arm; he half-smiles, his eyes lazy with fatigue. “Okay. But don’t stay too long; I want to take you out for supper.” I...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Mar 23, 2018 | Easter, Good Friday, Gospel, history, Jesus, Roman, seal, short story, soldier
Claudia adjusted her toga as she approached the garrison. Maybe she would see him today. She absently fingered her new coif and hoped that the hairdresser had woven the cords tightly around her cluster of curls. She had to look her best for Vitus. She had scarcely...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Mar 2, 2018 | bomber, dry cleaning, father, jacket, romance, short story, world war 2
( a story set in vintage times)There was a hole the size of a saucer in the bomber jacket. Allison Jean Hopkins stared at it and wanted to weep. The steamy finishing room was almost intolerable by this time of day, and her frustration meter was already in the red...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Feb 23, 2018 | coffee, jungle, love, missionary, New England, short story, wedding
Bistro tables scattered at angles on a plank floor. Book-lined shelves flanking a stone fireplace. Leather chairs placed in little nooks. A glossy counter scuffed with years of scrapes from coffee mugs. Normally, it was the kind of place that Rayne Hartwell would...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Feb 11, 2018 | Indiana, officer, Ohio, police, romance, short story, wedding
Gracie Peters pushed the gas pedal harder and fought against her better judgment. A girl had a right to a trip now and then, even if it was only to see her sister-in-law in the next state. Ka-thump. She put her ear close to the window. A flat tire? She craned...
