TimeLess Writers
If you don't find Time to read, you won't find Time to write....
so start reading.
Oh, look! Here's a GREAT place to Start!
My stories...
The Face with One Eye
Isabel del Carmen Quintana
This short gothic story takes place in a small town in New Hampshire. What is it about sleepy, quaint New England towns that is so spooky?
Nina sat in the cramped office of her psychiatrist, Dr. Chatfield, patiently waiting for the doctor to return. The chair felt strangely comfortable today. Its winged back seemed to cradle her in an embrace she began to wonder if she craved. Or perhaps it was the sun. It shone brightly on her body and the chair. When Dr. Chatfield returned, she would alter the blinds, darkening the room and removing Nina from the source of fiery heat. I should say I want them kept open, she thought, as she unclenched her arms, letting her body drape defenselessly into the chair.
“Sorry for the delay.”
Dr. Chatfield’s crisp voice startled Nina into a tauter position. Then she remembered her instructions, took a breath, lengthened out her limbs and cleared her throat. “No. No problem.”
“So, let’s get started. How are you today? What’s going on?” Dr. Chatfield crossed the room with short, determined steps. She wore a perfectly tailored cream skirt with a matching blazer. Most would have found the color soothing, perhaps even motherly. But Nina only noticed that her psychiatrist looked like a model, albeit a middle-aged one, from Vogue magazine.
Nina crossed one leg carefully over the other, making sure she did not pull both legs in on herself. “I’m still having the nightmare.”
Rain on a Ring of Fire
Isabel del Carmen Quintana
This novel will be serialized on this web site. I will add new chapters regularly. It's a story of the inexplicable bonds that we form with others and with the very spaces we inhabit. Taking place in Athens, Georgia, it has a Southern lingering voice.
“Everybody here, comes from somewhere, that they would just as soon forget …”
Nathan could hear the music blasting from his neighbors’ open windows. A party had been going on for hours in the other half of the shabby duplex. He had been trying to study for most of that time, but now the music grabbed him, as REM usually did. Not me, he thought, I’m from right here – good ole’ Athens, GA. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.
He closed his text, firmly shutting the cover over the picture of a cow’s innards that he had been scrutinizing. He stretched his legs and lifted his arms towards the wall behind him. He had been sitting for way too long. His well-built thighs felt tight, and his six-foot frame felt as if it had shrunk to five foot seven. What he needed was a jog, or a bike ride. But the day had been gloriously hot for May, and the night was only slightly cooler, despite the afternoon showers that had ripped through town as if in consummation of the extreme humidity. He rubbed his blue eyes and stared at the clock on the microwave. 1:30. It was time to either go to sleep, or …
