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A new spider species causes a national emergency for me
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Continue reading →: A new spider species causes a national emergency for meSpiders: the final enemy in my mailbox. These are the stories of a Nebraska farmwife terrified of spiders. Her mission is to avoid getting the mail until the second frost. Her mission is to avoid spiders at all cost, seek out new ways to avoid them and to boldly never…
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I’m going on sabbatical
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Continue reading →: I’m going on sabbaticalI’m going on sabbatical. Time frame is to be determined, but I’m done getting the mail from the mailbox. You see, there’s not just mail in my mailbox. There’s black creatures lurking in the mailbox, building their sticky sacks where their thousands of children live. And the worst part of…
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I didn’t win, and that’s a good thing
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Continue reading →: I didn’t win, and that’s a good thingClosed doors, open doors and waiting for that one “yes” I didn’t win, and that’s a good thing About a month ago, I learned I was honorable mention in a writing contest. When I got the news, I did the happy dance, jumped up and down like I was on…
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Gratitude is Going out of Style
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Continue reading →: Gratitude is Going out of StyleThere’s a movement that is becoming a bit troubling to me, and I’m not talking politics, AI or the future. I’ll let other bloggers talk about that. I’m talking about gratitude. Writing thank you notes is becoming a lost art, even just writing a note in general is rare. And…
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I was forgotten
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Continue reading →: I was forgottenFear cripples every living thing, but God shows us how to overcome. The north wind blew strong, bitter; the very chill that comes with the bite of snow. Winter was still showing her teeth no matter that it was officially five days into spring. The cats snuggled in their warm…
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Random Thoughts
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Continue reading →: Random ThoughtsFinding reflection on Sunday with random musings… Sundays are a time for rest and reflection. They are also a time I choose to write. I could work on my novel. I could work on a short story or flash fiction story that has been nudging at me, but instead, I…
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A crisis of conscience
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Continue reading →: A crisis of conscienceThe internet is ruining one of my favorite authors. This is not the first time. I was sitting in the physical therapist’s office, randomly scrolling through Twitter and came across a tell-all piece regarding Marion Zimmer Bradly. When I was a teenager, my aunt gifted me with “Mists of Avalon.”…
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A candle for Silent Night
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Continue reading →: A candle for Silent NightShe is 8, maybe 9. Her hair is blonde and curls up at her shoulders. She pushes her bangs out of her eyes, leaning forward to listen to the choir. She did not have a Christmas dress with sparkles or lace or black patent leather shoes. Her hair was not…
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Be Still
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Continue reading →: Be StillIt’s all about the hustle, or is it? I stood next to our hosta plants, blooming with long stems of white flowers. I had just turned to say something to my family sitting on the desk, and something green and moving very fast zoomed around me. I froze. I would…
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Weeds
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Continue reading →: WeedsI adjusted my gardening hat and turned to my husband. “How do I look?” Now any guy knows this is a dangerous question, but my husband is smooth. He gives me a crooked grin, and says that I look like my mom. And that’s a good thing. She was one…
Hello,
I’m Merry
Born and raised in Nebraska, Merry Muhsman is a fantasy writer, a nonfiction writer, and a flash fiction writer. Merry lives on a farm with her husband and son, a dog and lots of cats.
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Recent posts
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This story was first published in On the Premise, March 2013. I hope you enjoy it! Today I’m sharing something a little different than you’ve read before. This story is a fantasy story, based in the world I created in my first self-published book. I was fascinated with a story I read tha the first
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“I’ve never had a team with this record.” I sat across from our school’s Varsity football coach at a student conference meeting, staring dumbstruck at Coach as he tossed those unexpected words onto the table between us. Coach did double duty as Austin’s Strength and Conditioning teacher (the modern-day version of what we used to
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Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash A curly blonde girl cradled a metal Band-aid box to her chest, and two tears slid down her cheeks. She peered into the heavy darkness of the small opening of the cave. A good place for a burial. The box was prepared with care, layered with a flower-patterned paper
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Honorable mention. Two words that could mean second place or not good enough for honor roll or even first place. It all depends on your perspective. My mother had fistfuls of purple ribbons from the 4-H fair and several first-place finishes at the state fair. My mother was a top-notch competitor and winner. My sister
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A curly blonde head leaned over the vegetable-patterned fabric, feeding it carefully under the sewing machine foot. The hum of the machine wanting to be let loose, but the girl was too hesitant, having ripped out seam after seam. I gazed up at my mother for approval on the stitch. I knew it was crooked,
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Sparkles of light like diamonds skim across the still blue water. The sun is impossibly bright and the air unbelievably still. I don’t want to do this. I adjust the red life jacket crowding my face. I want to throw up. I am a pro when it comes to faking sickness to get out of
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