The Lie

It is too easy to start a lie.

I tried for a solid year to start a regular exercise routine, but it just didn’t take.

I promised myself eighteen months ago that I would only drink three days per week, but that never came to fruition. My current goal is to make a bottle of wine last three days.

Lying, on the other hand, was easy. I didn’t have to think about it. The words just spilled right out. It wasn’t conscious. I didn’t even have to journal about it or set a goal for myself. I just did it.

From Guest Contributor Amy Bracco

Drought’s End

It was almost dark and he pulled into his driveway a happy man.

He had planned to be home in time for lunch, or at least to be at home at lunchtime, home in time for his favorite talking heads to read him the news he’d missed in the morning while he showered so as to make himself presentable at his favorite café, his best black journal open, crying out for him not to allow yet another eight-day lapse without so much as a single penstroke.

It was almost dark and he was happy to have generated three whole sentences.

From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette

A Man Among Ferns

He remembers waking up—ages ago—amid ferns, with neither a plan nor any desire to ever be waking up again at all, least of all amid ferns, which he had considered to be beautiful before he wandered into them and disappeared, hoping to disappear forever.

Now, almost a half-century later, he endures his almost unendurable insomnia in the broadest daylight his personal December has to offer. He sits with his journal at his favorite café table by the window, attempting to capture any fragment of last night’s dreams, but is sadly reminded—again—that not all attempts are successful.

From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette

The Red Cardinal

Mark sat next to his motionless mother.

“How is she doing today,” Mark asked the nurse. A red cardinal perchedon the window sill chirped.

“The same. Quiet and still.”

Mark opened his journal and wrote the date. He spent his time writinghappy moments with his mother rather than spending time on a novel.

“Mom, look. There’s a red cardinal, your favorite bird.” Sophia’s mouthsagged, expressionless.

He sighed. “Mom, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Mark left the room with a blank space in his journal. Alzheimer’s tookhis mother away and he didn’t know how to endure the emptiness.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

A Modern Day Chastity Belt

I keep careful track of my house keys. Each one is tagged with a tiny GPS chip so that I can pinpoint their locations at all times. I note every person that has ever touched one in my key journal.

I don't trust locksmiths, so I apprenticed myself to learn lock making techniques. I developed a special algorithm based on integral wave theory to measure out the grooves, giving my locks the equivalent of 256-bit encryption.

You might consider me excessively cautious, but no one has ever broken into my house.

My key journal has only a single name listed.