She - fiction

She was the favorite season of his life.

Late nights, early mornings: always hitting the road on an adventure. Working on the fly and making money when needed.

Two years in, she grew tired of it all – wanted something sure, something stable.

When winter arrived, it seemed to linger forever.

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New Job - fiction

Seasonal Produce was finished; the band disbanded. But he wasn’t done. The music still called from somewhere through the fog of defeat. He had no choice but to listen and wait. Wait for the sun to rise on a shiny new idea. And then he went for it. Solo Career.

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Stay - fiction

“I hate winters in Michigan,” Charlie says in February. “They’re long, depressing and gray. I should move.”

He makes a snowman, drinks hot cocoa and reads Calvin and Hobbes to his grandson by a warm, inviting fire.

Charlie won’t move.

Little hugs and snuggles are more important than any season.

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Equinox - Fiction

End of Season. Sea, a million glistening stars. Sky, a watercolor. Breeze, an August afternoon when summer is both endless and fleeting. His ashes scattered, feathers floating along the waves. She paddled past a cottage on the little island, windows shuttered, dock pulled up. As if summer had never happened.

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A Promise is a Promise - prose poem by Sharron at 🍁Leaves

We met one solitary morning in winter. By spring, we’d surrendered to love, and on Midsummer Day we married. It all happened so quickly. Now, dazed by the reality of autumn, we understand that it takes serious dedication, season by season, year by year, for a marriage to last forever.

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Golden Girl - Non-Fiction

We step into a dark room awash in beams of golden dust one late summer evening.

Placing foil-covered meals in the infirm stranger’s kitchen, I look over to my grandmother.

For the first time in my thirteen years, it struck me that she, too, will someday come into this season.

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Recipe - prose poem by Sharron at 🍁Leaves

Take one sunny morning on the back porch. Add two cups of remarkably good coffee. Stir in songs of the finch and the sparrow. Mix in a little book-light from a favorite writer. Season with a kiss, in passing, from your little boy. A recipe for a darned good day.

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Sep 30, 2022·edited Sep 30, 2022Liked by Justin Deming

A New Place - fiction

Here's my contribution:


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Just Right - fiction

John rubbed the ribs with spices, coated them with his secret sauce, and set them in the refrigerator to marinate. The next day, John cooked the ribs for six hours. Soon, his kids and grandkids arrived.

“Mmm. How did you season these ribs, Dad?”

“Oh, I just threw something together.”

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Sep 30, 2022Liked by Justin Deming

Justin, I love your story and am making my way through the others... I didn't get to write mine, although I thought about it a lot... Maybe next time. I think the photograph is perfect, too.

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Sounds like fun, I can’t wait to read some good autumn stories 🤗

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