by Valorie Quesenberry | Dec 24, 2018 | Christmas
It was the coldest Christmas Eve Janaya could remember. Even without snow. The bitter wind whipping through canvas did not help. Nor did the mud holes into which she frequently sank one of her boots when walking on the road that should have been called a rut. This...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Dec 20, 2018 | Christmas
She was sitting beside the Christmas tree. Her back was to him. Joe slowed his pace, so he could sneak up on her. His ornery streak never would grow up, he supposed. She had a cute knit beanie cap on her head. From the back, she could have been a teenager. But he knew...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Dec 13, 2018 | Christmas
Westen Black shook his head in disbelief. That hardheaded stallion had gotten out of his stall again. How in the world? He walked over to where the stall door was swinging crazily by one hinge, leaned his arms on the good part of the enclosure and swung his boot at a...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Dec 6, 2018 | Christmas
December 6, 1941 “Wow, you look handsome!” Sam Reed smoothed his dress whites, clicked his heels and saluted for the benefit of his little sister. “Like ’em?” “They’re the bees’ knees!” He reached down to tousle her curls. “Thanks, Bonnie. Now, I just hope I can keep...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Nov 30, 2018 | Christmas
Coffee. She needed coffee. Garner grabbed the pole nearest her as the subway slid into motion and mourned that her coffee hand was empty. Unlike about twenty others crammed up beside her. Seasoned New Yorkers, they were juggling portfolios, attaché cases, handbags,...
by Valorie Quesenberry | Dec 24, 2017 | Bethlehem, birth, Christ, Christmas, December, Jesus, Joseph, manger, Mary, Nativity, short story
I rubbed my swollen stomach and grimaced as my foot slipped on a loose stone in the road. Dust swirled around my sandals and clung to my clothing. The crowd of people traveling with us grew with each mile. Surely that meant we were nearing our destination. By sheer...
