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Longevity

Paul (A Difficult Character)

Paul was game for anything – we played hide-and-seek in front of everybody – on the ferry, subways, and in the forbidden downtown streets.

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Resonance

Wolves and wolverines: Life and death on the trail

For several days I couldn’t get in touch with my Aunt Carla in Newfoundland to wish her a happy birthday because she was never home. “I don’t know what the fuss is all about,” she said, when I finally got her a couple of days before her birthday. Carolyn Filliter and her Siberian husky Neshka before hitting the trails. PHOTO: DAVID HOLT “It’s because you will be 100 tomorrow,” I said. “Thank you,” David, she said. “God love.” And, yes, she had received the flowers and card arranged by my sister Linda in California and the cookies from my wife Donna and our friend Gladys in St. John’s. Then she was off on another Zoom call. Carla lived in England when World War II broke out. She is a student of history. She knows life can be unpredictable. Play the odds. She doesn’t have much patience for the anti-vaxers. On

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One Cerulean Moment
Featured

One Cerulean Moment

I think for one cerulean moment that I might be in heaven but Pauly turns and something in his face goes on and my dad says, hey kiddo, and kicks the third chair out for me.

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Longevity

Canadian Fiction: Theo Waits

Unless you are talking about things I can plant in my stories like the wooden bridge that went sideways during winter storms or the sound of night hockey or the sharp rocks you placed in the corners of your tent so you wouldn’t fly away, I am not listening. I am making people up instead. I use my father’s blue eyes to feel a flash of him and for my mother it’s flowers, just a hint, and then somebody like Theo lands on the page and we’re off. He blew in over night. I saw the lights whir around my bedroom, just a second of a blueredbluered and then only whitefor a long time which was perfect because I had maybe four pages to go and my flashlight was barely a ghost. I heard car doors and voices, there was a final whir of colour, and if I thought about

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Longevity

Canadian Fiction: Tommy tomorrow

I have so many pretend situations going on you wouldn’t believe it. Documents open on my desktop that say things like Uncle Norm wasn’t Ted’s real father and everybody knew it andPenny liked to say that I saved her life that time when all I did was tell her to go home and When we didn’t have much, Carrie would throw a couple of coffee beans on the stove. The smoke would coil around the room and I’d catch a whiff and smile at her and she’d pretend not to notice. She’d fry one piece of bacon every day so the kids would wake up and come into the kitchen excited. I don’t think they noticed they only got a third of a piece each. That’s not what was important. It was all about hope, Carrie said. Getting out of bed happy, with expectations. I worked at Safeway and brought dinner home every

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story by Sherry
Longevity

Fiction: Mistakes and Omissions

Your analogies are too cumbersome, Colin used to say. They should snap. Yours don’t snap. Colin could be a real drip. I don’t miss him but sometimes I feel his absence. He would argue that these are the same. Colin could never tell the temperature of words. I didn’t feel his absence on my birthday last month or our anniversary the other day, but last night at the beach I thought of him because he would have been overcome it was so various and beautiful. First I thought of him as I was nudging my way through all those skinny empty trees in the forest, the sun blasting in between them like a strobe light, and then on the flat beach, the horizon soldered shut and the sky bursting with every kind of cloud and all the colours including a bruise of rain over Niagara and a pink smudge over

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Longevity

Fiction Short: Trixie

Aunt Trixie borrowed me on Saturdays.  She could have asked for Helen who was prettier, Mary who was nicer, or even Carol who everybody said was a hoot. But she picked me. You are going out with your Aunt Trixie today June, my mother said that first time, she will pick you up at noon. I couldn’t eat any more. I passed my toast to Carol who dipped its edges in ketchup while I watched not exactly in horror but in something new. It was only ten after nine.  I tried reading but my eyes kept going through the window. I tried corking but same thing. I took a bath but couldn’t linger. Finally I started dusting and tidying and sweeping and then before I knew it I was washing the floors and then the stairs and the bedrooms and the bathroom and all the glass and mirrors. I took the

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Longevity

Meet Marvins, my protagonist

These are a series of fictional stories by Canadian writer, Sherry Cassells featured exclusively on Silver. I took an online writing course which I tried to cancel but it was too late. Our first assignment was to tell one truth and one lie and our fellow writers had to determine which was which. I said  I am purple and  I am looking forward to this course… They all got it wrong. Give your characters something to want, create conflict, show don’t tell, write what you know. Say hello to Marvins, my protagonist who wants for nothing. He is not based on my father or my teacher or a dead uncle or anyone else. His name is because his mother named him thrice, once for him, and once for each identical brother who didn’t make it. Another important thing when writing fiction is plausibility. Marvins is an old man. His veins are squished

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Longevity

Love love

My mother was an actress. She wore capes – long ones that billowed behind her as if they were motorized – and when she was still, they landed on the floor in beautiful puddles. Her jewellery – big and colourful like planets – exuded a shimmer of sitar-like music which narrowed into a single coke-bottle note in the evenings. Andy Warhol designed a pair of earrings for her. They looked like two ruins that had been pulled from the earth, but when she wore them – I don’t know what to tell you – something out of this world happened and I’ll just leave it at that. When she hugged me, her perfume stayed with me all day, bloomed when I shook my head, and when she was away, I’d dab it hot behind my ears the way she did behind hers. I waited for it to wear off a

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