For my current mixed media art project, I decided to use a theme I've been dwelling on these past few weeks about moving through time with life's triumphs and difficulties.

I remember my childhood playing endlessly with my own pinwheel that my parents purchased for me at a discount store. It didn't matter what other small items I acquired over the years. I kept my pinwheel

To say Amoretta was worn, torn, battered, and dejected was to imply that a masterpiece had survived the bonfire. In reality, she'd received a terminal medical diagnosis that completely floored her. Family

Jade was never meant for the soft, manicured hands of the palace. Nor was she meant to dress and bathe the royal female inhabitants that dwelt within. No, she was carved from the earth’s most unyielding

Ten-year old Lacy learned that the famous yellow brick road her mom would read to her about wasn't the only path to happiness.

Do you enjoy allowing yourself the pampered pleasure of an exquisite manicure? It's been a while since I indulged in that activity. Perhaps because I don't like long lines and endless gossip while waiting.

Heidi stared at her cooling coffee as twenty browser tabs, a half-written apology, and the lingering rhythm of a forgotten country song collided behind her eyes. Her brain was a crowded attic where the

Part 2 Conclusion (An Unlikely Partnership Gives Rise to The New Vanguard)

Ciara, a brilliant archivist, fractured her mind into two distinct personas. Her logical side (Ciara) managed her daily life, while her hidden, hyper-aware side absorbed the emotional aftermaths.

Lance dropped his boots by the door, then walked wearily toward the kitchen island, his lunch cooler in hand. His muscles ached from a long shift at the chemical plant. Every nerve was frayed. Art wasn't

This Curated Collection of Posts encompasses a 4-part short story fiction with accompanying mixed media projects I designed for the for publication in the Alien Art Hive Community. The series is titled

Stepping onto Bourbon Street for the first time, Cynthia felt swept into an intoxicating sensory overload. A breathing kaleidoscope of neon lights, clinking glassware, and pulsating brass.

I have the understanding to transform the town, but I don't have the knowledge to persuade. I'm not a solicitor with fancy words. I can't convince those who need to know with the speech to fully explain.

The gavel was Judge Bixby's only weapon against the chaos that had erupted in his makeshift court. Almost shattering the sounding block, he struck until only whimpers were noticeable.

She done no wrong, did Kercy. Townspeople agreed, but their words failed to sway the local magistrate. "Hang her!" was the verdict rendered.

This Curated Collection of Posts encompasses a 3-part short story fiction with accompanying freestyle collages I designed for the Let's Make A Collage Community (LMAC). The series is titled "Secret

Secret of the Lighthouse - Part 3: Conclusion (The Moral Reckoning). Disturbing as all the evidence Victoria discovered in the makeshift study in the lighthouse, she still hadn't found the lock that fit

Part 2: The Fatale Entanglement

If bricks could talk, the lighthouse would ring out tons of glorious tunes depicting seafarers' woes while casting its beam upon the white-crested waters, inviting all to dare draw near.

The canyon's foundation trembled under thumping steps from the obsidian-clad Black Minotaur Brigade as its thousand soldiers on mini war elephants and gigantic wild boars marched forward. To the untrained