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I've Grown Accustomed To This Place, poem by Jill Ebsworth at Spillwords.com

I’ve Grown Accustomed To This Pace

Jill Ebsworth·July 6, 2022

I’ve Grown Accustomed To This Pace written by: Jill Ebsworth Sad to say, I’ve grown accustomed to...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Here’s To The Quiet Ones

Tamara Buber·March 4, 2022

Here’s to the Quiet Ones written by: Tamara Buber Be more outgoing! – they say You’re such a...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Shadows of Abandon

Edward L. Canavan·August 30, 2021

Shadows of Abandon written by: Edward L. Canavan @Ed_Leo71 falling visions from once where we stood unearthed...

Poetry English

·1 min read

The Girl Who Believed She Got Time

Lucretia Lixandru·May 14, 2020

The Girl Who Believed She Got Time written by: Lucreția Lixandru Once upon a time, in a...

Article English

·2 mins read

Silence Is Me

Charlie Bottle·January 5, 2019

Silence Is Me written by: Charlie Bottle @CharlieBottle “I” am an alphabet, a complex word, that sits...

After a long career tinkering in telecommunications, Jim Bartlett switched to tinkering with writing fiction, both requiring a stretch of the imagination. In the course of putting his fingers to the keyboard, he's been fortunate to have quite a number of his stories featured both in print and online in several wonderful publications, including a story selected for "The Best of Fiction on the Web, 1996 – 2017" anthology. While mentally he strolls along a warm California beach with his wife and golden retriever (shhh, she doesn't know she's a dog), physically they reside on a special little island in the Pacific Northwest.

Reaper by Sharon Frame Gay

As an orphaned son of an orphan, I always see the glass as half empty. I picture the water murky and lukewarm, a waterline etched below the rim. Maybe with an ash or two floating at the bottom, because that’s what I do for a living. I deal with ashes. The remains of the deceased. No matter how those who pass away see their glass, meager or full, they eventually end up in a satchel carried on my shoulder.
My business card reads “Morton Stark Transport.” I’m called upon to disperse the ashes of the dearly departed and honor their final wishes. People hire me to escort the remains throughout the world ...

Features

Interview Q&A With Jim Bartlett

Cast Off

Mercury

Interviews

Interview Q&A With Jim Bartlett

Spotlight On Writers – Darryl B

Spotlight On Writers – Maliya Denise Wilmore

Interview Q&A With Jim Bartlett

The Mirror Did Not Come as Glass

The Devil Calls

AAEVEYN ULLOVTO’s Scrabbled Psyche

My Mother’s Love

Loneliness

Death of The Moth

Crossing The Rubicon

introvert

I’ve Grown Accustomed To This Pace

Here’s To The Quiet Ones

Shadows of Abandon

The Girl Who Believed She Got Time

Silence Is Me

Bonfire of Resolve

Mercury

Still Standing Tall

Cast Off

Every Day, at Five A.M.

A Little Book About Trees – by Tim Burr

Zombie

Creatures of Habit

Milli-Between-Seconds

The Lonely Hour

Slowly

You’ll Be Fine