This sad little fiction about a meltdown at a mall earned an Honorable Mention from Women on Writing in 2017.

When I was little, a monster hid in this dresser. It taunted me every night.

As strawberry season approaches, I think of my dad. I wrote this with love, and with a yearning for dollops of whipped cream on freshly baked shortcake.

On every trip my parents took, they collected a spoon. I’d love to hear the memories attached to each one—if only silver could speak.

This unpleasant little tale won second prize in the 2017 Writers on the Heath (UK) short fiction contest. It earned me one of my first ever cash prizes and an interview on a local radio station. I’m sorry to report I babbled.

I wrote this after attending the funeral of my dear friend’s mom. My memories of her are from long ago—many of them are fragmented, but still vivid. I attempted to capture a few in this piece, and to pay tribute to a remarkable and much-loved woman.

This memoir piece is true, except for my boyfriend’s name. I entered a shorter version into the 2016 Gotham Writers 91-Word Memoir Contest, where it made the list of finalists.

When I was fifteen, my dad got a new job, and we moved from Kingston, Ontario to Atlanta, Georgia. This memoir piece captures a day in my life soon after we arrived. It was a significant date for the human race, and a deeply personal one for me.