Memoirous

Flash Fiction Contest: Nat. Brut F I R S T  P L A C E    includes a $200 prize and the winner's entry will be included in Issue Five. S E C O N D  P L A C E   includes a $50 prize, and the winner's entry will be included on the  Nat. Brut Blog . T H I R D  P L A C E   winner's entry will be included on the NB blog and will receive a T-Shirt. InkTears International Short Story Competition 2014 The Prize There are six prizes which will be awarded by the InkTears judging panel: •     Winner: £1,000 •     Runner-up: £100 •     4x Highly Commended: £25 Submissions must be a short story between 1,000 to 3,500 words in length, written in English. Any theme is acceptable.   The Stella Kupferberg Memorial Short Story Prize is a writing competition sponsored by the stage and radio series,  Selected Shorts . This long-running series at Symphony Space in New York City celebrates the art of the short

Here is an excerpt of an email I sent to my husband--after I'd survived getting lost leaving the Sörmlandsleden Trail. *** The trail was perfect. The weather was perfect. Sleeping at night watching my fire die down was perfect. The only problem was today, my last day, which should have been glorious. The map was spot on--until I left the trail and tried to walk to Gnesta. I got up at 6:15 in order to break camp and get to the road. My directions said 14 km on the road, which is a lot. I was hoping to catch a ride. Actually the first km was fine, everything on the map. I had visions of being EARLY for the 11:45 train. Then everything went haywire. I kept trying to follow the map of where the road led to the bigger road, but it dead ended. Literally, just stopped. There were logging road tracks and I tried, but they were awful. So I went back to where I made that turn. Probably backtracking a mile. It didn't make sense but I tried another gravel road, thinking

I got to Visby at about 1 in the afternoon. Still no storm, just white fluffy clouds, like giant pieces of popcorn. I cycled around the city walls. Until I actually saw someone storming the walls. A city worker. Then from on top of a hill I spied some ruins. Come to find out there are 13"ruined" churches within the city walls. And more ruins. In the distance, storm clouds. Why so many ruins? They were ruined by the Reformation. Of course what is a walled city without some cute timberd houses. After my walking tour of Visby I sat down in a square to bask in the sunshine and enjoy a cup of tea. Literally a second after I got up a big, fat storm cloud blew in and started shaking the tree tops. Dirt blew in my eyes. I texted the guys at the cycle shop, hopped on my bike, and pedaled with the wind pushing me to return the bike. The nice guy also gave me a ride in his car (with his family--the little girl pulled out her nannie to tell me

I left my host family at about 9 a.m. though I had to go back because I left this little device--haha. I bought a Kindle before leaving the States and it's been so great. Very light weight and functional wherever there is WiFi. My first church stop was in Sanda. Next I went on the the kyrka in Vastergarn. It is easy to forget that one is on an island. There are so many trees and small farms. Then You realize that these people live and die by the sea. I felt a bit like a mariner today. The weather forecast called for a sunny morning, but then a big weather change was going to occur. Rain and high winds. I definitely did not want to be caught in a storm, so I hurried on to Visby. On the way I was once again reminded that this is an island. After days of riding in the interior, the landscape opened up to the water. And, oddly enough=bunkers. Before I got to Visby I took a side road. The weather didn't look too alarming. I passed some weir

I love stopping at the village kyrkas. For one thing they are spaced short distances. In about 8 or so km I can be at a new one. Also they have picnic tables where I can sit and have tea from my thermos or the numerous buns I buy from the ICA grocery store. The other reason I stop is that they have toilets. All have been clean, well-stocked and just great. Some are more modern and some are More basic. My second day of cycling was a bit gloomy. There were periods of sun and clouds, then mostly cloudy. I stopped by a church in Dalhem. It was breathtaking, rivaling Siena. The walls were colorfully decorated-- not sure if they are frescoed or simply painted. See for yourself. Above notice the angel riding on a ship. Always the boat motif. I went on to a ruined Abbey and monastery at Romakloster. The information in English said the Abbey disappeared, but the timing is slightly revealing. It disappeared because of the Reformation and the lands were given to a lord. From

Not only do the Swedes use km to measure distance, but they also have the Swedish mile. Roughly 1 Swedish mile equals 10 of ours. I did about 5 Swedish miles yesterday. I also kept passing old mile markers that looked like cute little houses. Everything in Sweden is Cute (except getting lost, which that will be published later.) I kept cycling on, clocking km and swedish miles until I came to a point of interest. (Signs are very good, so far. Hopefully no getting lost.) The info board told me that during the Bronze Age there was a settlement here. Now just a heap of rocks. That is the problem with the Bronze Age. There was also evidence of modern man, lots of bits of tissue on the ground. That's the problem with modern man--we also leave our mark. Next I rode on to a church at the little town of Bro. It was quite old. Not sure when it was built, but set into the walls once again were stones with old writing.  Notice the ship on the one above. Inside the church was colorf

So begins my own Nordic saga. After leaving the comfort of my friend and her home in Tranås, I took 4trains to begin my hike in the small town of Molnbo. I got off the train and was told to follow the signs to get to the trail. So I did for maybe a mile until I reached the trail. The trail was VERY  well marked. Every few steps trees were painted with an orange band. It would be hard to lose the trail. Yet I also had with me the official map for the trail. The one issued by the society that maintains the trail. Until I got to where I was going to spend my first night. At what is called a wind shelter. Lotta had loaned me a high-powered sleeping bag. It should keep me warm--it weighed a ton, adding at least 5 pounds to my pack. Here is where I slept. And here was my view. The next day was more of the same. Beautiful pine woods breaking forth into beautiful glistening lakes. Where I refreshed myself with a swim! It was so relaxing, but very lonely. All together