Robin Hawke

January 2, 2013, 6:46 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A remarkable woman convalesced. Mid-sentence, her breath left her body before her last thought formed. Poor dear lady, poor attendees, all robbed of a quotable moral.

January 1, 2013, 6:05 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

It’s time. It’s time to put away the old and freshen expectations. A new year, a new story.

Five Months
November 29, 2012, 8:56 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Married five months before the knives came out. A cradle wedding, a coffin divorce. The news anchor reported she was buried in bridal finery.

November 28, 2012, 11:14 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The daily grind ended with a cup of coffee.  Too many haphazard events (demands) kept the writer from a promise to herself. A clean stream of life beckoned if heavens would pour and drown the cobbles.

April 24, 2012, 5:40 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Phyllis bred feelings of good will. It was her honor. Until one afternoon, when charm fled and plastic smiles remained, then she asked for a raise not forthcoming.

April 23, 2012, 6:50 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Enraged, beaten, Bethany withdrew a sum of money. Now who would keep it? Stocks wore flimsier dressing than a mattress.

April 22, 2012, 10:31 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Granite and gargoyles. Limestone and ivy. Graduation and roses.

April 21, 2012, 11:37 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The hornet, drunk or stupefied, walked the rim of the rain barrel. I didn’t understand why it walked around and around: a peculiarity. I filled another bucket and left it to its circling.

April 20, 2012, 12:12 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Tina’s neighbors despaired. Tina grew dandelions and violets. Lovely blades of grass, the few, lacked the charm of carefree weeds.

April 19, 2012, 10:11 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The study couldn’t be replicated. Gumby fingers pointed in every direction, even skyward. Half truths multiplied faster than cells.

April 18, 2012, 10:59 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

He held an umbrella open. She preferred the net of water webs on her hair. Is it too obvious: he walked the shade of buildings while she danced the gutters?

April 17, 2012, 6:27 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The dress was white. An optimist, the mother took a picture. A pessimist, she didn’t forward it to her daughter.

Long Line
April 16, 2012, 7:08 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The line of cars stretched around the curve. Their owners waited patiently to drop off household hazardous waste. A turkey decided gas emissions posed little danger and crossed the road.

April 15, 2012, 5:06 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Under the sun, players moved chess pieces. Fingers pinched heads in timed maneuvers designed for stealth. A quiet body hunt on a lazy day.

April 14, 2012, 1:50 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

My lovely silver car is dusty and the color of snot. Underneath, mice eat their way into an airline. Let others provide carbon for air full of pollen—I’ll stretch my arms heavenward in my exile from the roads.

April 13, 2012, 8:41 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A college student reads Buddhist poetry on a bed between four blank walls. A pregnant mother intends to buy a crib and a stroller but maxes out her credit card. A daughter looks at the gloves her mother wore to a wedding twenty years before and wonders why she kept them.


The ‘she’ in the last sentence is ambiguous–would pinpointing an antecedent help or hinder this story? The motivation of either mother or daughter (to keep the gloves) is similar so I allowed the word to remain vague.

April 12, 2012, 10:00 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

During pollen season, dust motes circled the air, small galaxies. They drifted through wide and narrow spaces.  Minor irritations, they created small bangs of flying matter.


My stories become pedestrian when my thoughts follow the trenches on the left side of my brain. And it is another beautiful day, despite the pollen.

April 11, 2012, 9:42 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Except for sneezes, the day was perfect: dry with a whisper of cool. The day called chores to hibernate, frisbees to fly, lizards to sun. I resisted writing about the weather, but an invitation to contemplate Eden banished thoughts of conflict and ruses.



April 10, 2012, 9:10 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Disease, hurricanes, rot. One after another, the oaks that divided the neighborhood disappeared. Immigrants sawed and chopped; boughs fell; a neighbor mourned.

April 9, 2012, 9:48 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Charity served rhythm. Between a creek’s babble and an insect’s hum, she found a spark of muse. Slow rhythms penetrated; frenetic beats countered.

I’m hoping to get back to writing. I work in silence to follow the rhythm of my thoughts without distraction. First, though, my patriotic duty to taxes, and then!

Back Up
April 8, 2012, 9:51 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The little boy next door: the only trick-or-treater in the neighborhood, the one who watched the dogs one weekend only, the mage—or was it shaman?—that hitched a ride on the neighbor’s WOW account and who came by for Easter chocolate, he grew. Grew into size football player.  I returned to days of handing out candy when I watched him light a pipe.

I’m celebrating my daughter’s birthday today. She grew into size lovely human. Happy holidays to all!

April 7, 2012, 1:23 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A spiderweb tent, gray as sky, settled in the crook of a lower branch. Rob pulled the branch down in two quick steps. The hand torch drew like a gun and ignited offending squirms.

Squirms is not a noun, but—with dictionary and thesaurus in place,  home in front of my roomy monitor—I indulged my writing. (Tent worms are capable of eating through tall trees and have shown up on the apple tree, the one that looks like a cribbage board, the one that looks like it will die any year, the one that is almost as tall as the telephone lines, the one that I climb to prune.)

Saving a Place
April 6, 2012, 1:41 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Yesterday was the first day I was unable to post the story I wrote. I knew the day would come—an internet connection can be a tenuous link—but I feel defeated. I shouldn’t. I wrote this story in the car and on the day:

Sarah, with a sunny day off, went shopping. Her route took her through consignment and thrift stores. At every stop, mink and fox furs held fast to hangers, the bookmarks of eras.

March 30, 2012, 9:19 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The need to keep her grandfather’s memory alive meant she kept his dominoes and the hat with the small brim. An odd set of pick-up sticks went into the yard sale. When it didn’t sell, it joined the dominoes.

March 29, 2012, 9:22 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

“The largest franchise in the region—you are working for the best franchise in the South. We are holding you accountable for great work experiences. Help us serve the customers.”

Thank you to everyone who has put up with my five minute McBlogs.

March 24, 2012, 10:07 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The neighbor’s dog yapped. Unconcerned, the black dog climbed the picnic table to sit in the sun. Furballs caught the breeze, tumbleweeds of indignity.

How early?
March 22, 2012, 10:21 AM
Filed under: Six Word Stories, Three Sentence Stories

Beep Beep. Snooze. Beep Beep Beep.


On the road with an ancient laptop. Spent yesterday getting the wireless card working. The hours devoted to troubleshooting technology are as numbing as that third sentence.

March 21, 2012, 1:05 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories | Tags:

Grandfather took her window shopping. There was toys and mannequins that moved and clockwork that ticked and things that popped; there was his beam from myopic eyes; there was his hand holding hers; there was square blocks with broad avenues with window after window, thick plate glass that went up the sky. Joys wrapped up, they went to eat at a restaurant where he knew the owners and called the waiter by first name and she ate oysters by dozens.

When a sentence doesn’t read well, it is often because I have omitted a word in parallel structures. Above, I tried to string experiences in pleasing patterns. The goal was to write a list with repeating structures and without repetitive rhythms. 

March 20, 2012, 2:54 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

I went into a brazen sleep that taunted the others. While I dreamed, they watched. Shoes, sleeping bags, tarantulas held their thoughts while I drifted on blue.


I use -ing words to shorten sentences, but worry that I rely on them too heavily: original ‘taunting’; now: ‘that taunted’. I haven’t heard or read any advice about this usage. Does anyone have a suggestion when two words might be better than one?

March 19, 2012, 2:36 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

People with jobs enjoy grass; flowers on the side please. His mother, who disliked taproots and beggars, requested short, manicured spears. Clark, owning time, served violets and dandelions to the family table and complained about tips.


There was a story on the news about the number of graduates living at home. When I added the phrase after the semi-colon I found the story. Immediately the title became clear–ordering and serving often indicate class distinctions. As I wrote each sentence, I edited to follow the analogy of perfect grass with a serving waiter to find the verbs and nouns. For example: ‘requested’ was originally ‘begged’, then ‘bidded’—notice I added the ‘beg’ back in to repair class differences.  The word ‘enjoy’ could be tightened; I left it in only because I was afraid of beating up the story. It was simply fortunate that violets and dandelions are weeds, edible and beautiful colors. 

The comma is missing before the word please: does this omission help create a perfunctory voice?