If you've been waiting to write flash fiction until you feel "read," start anyway, Flash Fiction is built on motion: One sharp idea, a handful of scenes, and an ending that leaves a mark. This month, I'm drafting a Beauty and the Beast twist set in the late 1800's near a reservation. In my version, the cherokee male is "Beauty" and the colonists's granddaughter is "The Beast." They meet, and he helps her-- through romance, survival, and the slow unlearning of cultural bias. H

Embracing the Morning Light Mornings with the sun streaming in between the curtains feel like bursts of joy. The soft, golden light reminds me of feeling well-rested and waking up next to my soul mate. A warm touch on my arm gently pulls my mind from deep subconscious realms. I linger in that quiet space between dreaming and being. Motivation and creativity seep in, like warmth soaking into my bare skin through the window. I think of mindfulness, gratitude, and the steady les

Need a quick, feel-good read? MeKel’s Mindful Micro-Fiction is a small “microdose” to find some joy in reading with these short stories—now on Amazon Kindle for $7. Table of Contents Memoir Prose Beach Encounters Alice the Neurodivergent Reading goals Read 1 story in 5 minutes Highlight 1 line that sticks with you Share 1 favorite quote with a friend Journaling goals Write 3 words for how it made you feel Note 1 moment you related to End with 1 small intention for today Pinte

Hints of raspberry linger on my tongue and outside the window the chimes sing their sweet and bold melody. Jay’s at the kitchen sink and I hopped into bed so that I can catch him before he begins to rest without me. It’s a slow start day. Jay has to work later so I’m going to enjoy the last few hours with him I’ve never seen the Redwoods or a great waterfall that left me in wonder- a rushing flood of white. I’ve seen the unexplained, strange moments that resist words, of some

Pagans call it Beltane; The start of summer, the crest of spring. Leaves speckle green like an artist’s sponge painting. Fluorescent purple petals scatter along the edge of the gravel road. A few red-breasted birds follow, keeping pace as we move forward. Your knee has been hurting, work has been stressful, I’m starting a new job within a week or two. I hope things start going better for us. If we could retire together, live simply, feel gratitude-- I hope one day it will be

Writing is often imagined as a purely imaginable act- an escape into thought, memory, or invention. Yet most vivid and emotionally resonant writing doesn't come from detachment; it comes from presence. Grounding is the practice of anchoring attention in the body and staying in the present moment. It serves as a bridge between the present moment, lived experiences, and creative expression. Grounding helps writers shift from scattered, distracted thinking into a state of focu

I brush my lips against her ear and whisper, “I love you.” Her fur carries that dusty, fresh earth-scent-- like sun-warmed dirt and quiet adventures, like she’s been threading herself through fields and slipping beneath trailers collecting the day in her coat. It clings to her in a way that feels alive, untamed. She breaths softly. Steady, grounded. Jay’s hand rests in mine, warm and silky, the fine lines mapping out years of living I don’t need explained. My thumb traces the

He has taken the day off with a plan: map the week so the wedding that he attends and a string of spa event fall into place that will give him a little island of time to himself; to clean and finish some small, precise tasks.

The people are on the elephants going up the hill to feed the cats. I am in the parking lot and I can see that the elephants started running into each other. I don’t want the trainer to get mad so I hike up the mountain to let the trainer know it wasn’t the elephants fault. There’s a man dressed like a sikh. I can’t see where I’m going so I stop at a house on the way. A little girl answers and says she’ll go ask her dad if the trail leads to the elephants. Then I notice the d

Unspoken words, spoken through body language, shared in passing moments-- poetry within themselves. We sit in silence, wandering the depths of our own subconscious you read on your phone, I write, sipping cacao. The cat stretches, let’s out a soft meow and drifts towards the door. We’ve both been struggling with thoughts of addiction- but thoughts are just thoughts so we’ll leave it at that. Listen to your raspy, deep breaths through your nose. My hand on your soft skin sends

Northwest of the railway tunnel was our main town: scattered wooden buildings, farmland patches, and dirt roads near water access with a slightly higher elevation than the rest of the county. Far southeast there was a lake where the Utes met in spring and summer and had developed trades with Mattie Hawk’s grandparents, who raised her. In between is where Mattie volunteered her time as a farm hand for an older couple. Mattie Hawk rides like the wind knew her name first. She’s

It’s not dawn officially, but the sky glows a dark bright blue. The cat came to me for scratches, lifting her back against my fingers and leaving fine fur hairs beneath my nails, I checked on you before placing my pod in the coffee maker. I’m up early, which means there’s no excuse not to practice some yoga today. I’ll start with some mindfulness. A deep breath, stand by the door to let the cat out, cool air streaming in while counting birds chirping. Although I have this res

In the small desert city aligned with red-dirt canyons, where a river cuts through a canyon is an old stone bridge. This bridge has tunnels beneath it built for rail workers and was used by smugglers. During the 1930’s, the town rapidly grew into a bourgeois class of miners and trade workers. It’s the late 1950’s, and this prosperity lives an underground counter-culture of wanderers, folk scholars, and thieves. This mystery school of folk is known as the school of the Third C

Her tail brushes my leg in staccato strokes, leaving behind a sense of energy- like wet paint. Her meow says she’s hungry, but it doesn’t fully register until she nibbles at my hand while I rub the back of my palm against the soft, feathered fun along her forehead. My partner suggests she’s getting “Hangry,” so I open a can of tuna and gently pour out some of the juice, saving enough to keep the rest fresh. Meanwhile, I’m running through storylines for each chapter in my head

Healing Through Words by Rupi Kaur is less of a workbook with rules and more of a guidebook with suggestions such as only write when you feel comfortable. It suggests not to push yourself but to remain honest. Reflecting on the last poem I wrote in my book last week, I was trying to be honest without being blunt about what had happened and I think she’d suggest doing that so that you aren’t oversharing something unless it’s within your comfort level. Rupi Kaur also suggests t

If you’ve ever been curious about how Zen and Taoism relate, Zen Buddhism developed out of Mahayana Buddhism as it spread into China, where it was influenced by Taoism. Both traditions share similarities, especially in their emphasis on non-attachment and understanding life through direct, lived experience rather than abstract thinking. Zen tends to place more focus on meditation and insight, while Taoism often centers on cultivating and aligning with natural energy and flow.

The books I read this week included recovery and love poetry, Love Poems by Rupi Kaur quite different from the other three. She chooses to speak from logic instead of pure emotion and expresses this in the beginning of the book. Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell had some of the same vibes as Rupi Kaur’s other poems, Milk and Honey, Home Body, and The Sun and Her Flowers so I enjoyed it; well written. I think I gave it a four because I was hoping that she’d come out writi

For exercise 2 on page 9 of Rupi Kaur’s healing through words, it says to read the prompt and freewrite your thoughts: I thought about the last poem that I’d written and it was shaped around recalling that I practiced Goddess Pose after some trauma that occurred after relationship trauma. “The thing I am most scared of people finding out” is about this trauma and the details of it, how much pain I went through after making this decision for myself based on how he reacted abo

Ukata Konasana, Goddess Pose, I arrive-- feet rooted, heart open, Knowing my inner strength like a mountain at sunrise The Earth remembers my name. I step into warrior, fierce and unshaken to all I have overcome- the vices I left behind Mindful in the moment, I flow gently onward, finding myself in Triangle reaching--- In Child’s Pose, I fold inward breathing life into what once ached-- offering compassion to the child still learning to feel safe. I am grateful- for how far I

Imagine a hidden world beneath a bridge, where a group known as the Bridge Bandits gathers. They are not ordinary thieves but a unique band with stories and secrets that stretch beyond their daring escapades. Recently, they discovered something extraordinary—bioluminescent mushrooms that seem to listen and possibly carry messages from a different era. This mysterious discovery invites readers to dive into the first chapter of Beneath the Bridge of Thieves and explore a story