Write Tribe - grace grits and gardening

House of Cards (100 words on Saturday)

May 14, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 10 Comments

Jill never intended to dig such a deep hole. At first she skimmed cash off the top, just a little here and there, money no one noticed. She’d pay it back. Of course she would.

Eight years later, her game had reached a point of no return as she falsified wire transfers, forged documents and kited money across the country. Deep down she knew the day would come. Eventually. Yet eventually became impossible to imagine as the scam became her reality.

Until the slip-up.

One overlooked bank transaction.

Her house of cards unraveled by lunchtime. Really though, truth brought relief.

Grace Grits and Gardening

This week I’m linking up with Write Tribe’s 100 Words on Saturday. Prompt: she realized she could no longer hide the truth. And p.s. this story is fiction—any resemblance to true bank drama is coincidental. No, really.

happy and carefree

January 18, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 24 Comments

The marketplace was too loud to read so I closed my book and watched him. He banged on the lid of the trash can, then giggled to no one in particular. As he mumbled a tune, he wiggled around hopping from one foot to the other. Probably needed to pee, I thought. He was likely at that stage where he insisted on dressing himself. Mothers learn quickly to pick their battles, and coordinating clothing is typically traded off for something more important. He was content wearing a mismatched striped outfit and playing his makeshift drum. We should all be so carefree.

Grace Grits and Gardening

“Children see magic because they look for it.”
― Christopher Moore

This was written for Write Tribe – 100 Words on Saturday – Picture Prompt

Alone and Lonely

January 13, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 32 Comments

“White wine, please.” She sits at the end of the bar and blends in with the other faceless people. She is alone. Alone and lonely yet surrounded by laughter and dancing and music so loud the wine vibrates in her glass. Everything feels forced—the energy in this place, the smiles plastered all around, even her breathing—inhale, exhale. She takes a sip, feels the coolness slip down her throat and silently toasts the New Year. Things can only get better…

“Bourbon rocks.” He claims the next stool. The faint smell of his cologne almost invokes a memory, but not quite.

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

This post was written especially for Write Tribe – 100 Words on Saturday, Prompt: Strangers in the Night.

Musical Pairing:

Frank Sinatra, Strangers in the Night