I appreciate all aspects of my life. I guess as I get older, I understand and realize how valuable the little things are, like education and time. At the time I wrote this, I was ending my class in my major of Creative Writing and I appreciated all the feedback I’ve received. I also appreciated my Professor and my peers. My Professors feedback pushed me in a better direction with my writing. My peers gave me clarification and a better understanding of my writing. Both of them told me that I needed to slow my ass down.

It’s not quantity…


Another beautiful day in the neighborhood and I don’t feel like cooking because it’s about 8000 degrees outside. My garden is thriving and strawberries are about to become super sexy. I decided to risk my life and go outside (with a mask on) and check the news.

Y’all. Dear Reader. These folks are talking about “Snow White” and the Prince. How the Prince kissed her without consent. He is a predator. He should be sued and taken to jail.

I mean, seriously? Are you really serious out here?

Let me tell you something-being woke is starting to become toxic and…


When I was a kid, I always woke up on Saturday mornings and watched “The Jetsons”. I was so excited because I just knew in 1999 we would have flying jet cars, I’d be able to pop over to the moon for lunch and everything like that. But I’m gonna tell you something, science ain’t quite there.

I was listening to an article about people talking about the Pandemic. It went something like this:

“Do you think science or science fiction prepared us for the Pandemic?”

(silence)

Laughter. Lots of laughter.

“Science aint prepared us for shit.”

I’m paraphrasing, but…


I hear the whining. I hear the blah blah and I think sometimes writers live to come up with reasons not to write.

“I’m feeling overwhelmed…”

“It’s this damned pandemic…”

Stop. Just stop. If there’s nothing for you to write, there’s always something for you to read and I’m about to give you a gigantic heads up on all that shit.

I’m on a true crime kick. And I’m going to school. And I’m raising the last kid. And I’m trying to be a good aunt/sister/daughter. Thus, I have no time for your bullshit excuses.

Below, I will give you…


2020 was a bit of a sickest for all of us. Specifically, towards the end, I felt like 2020 had my arm twisted behind my back and me pressed up against a wall. It kept saying things like, “I’m not done with you yet. I’m not done making you miserable.”

I lost a cousin. She killed herself and planned her own funeral. I lost a great aunt, who-after her sister died-just seemed to let go. She was always a spunky one-even spunky than her sister-the feisty one-but I will miss her anyway. …

Tracy Cross

Tracy Cross is a writer of short, psychological stories and has had work appear in several horror anthologies, blogs and podcasts. She is from Cleveland, Ohio.

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