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Author: The Reluctant Author

The Reluctant Author, a user of words, has spent a lifetime writing words and storing them in notebooks, computer discs, digital files, and has now decided to step out into the light and start sharing some of those words with the world. (The Reluctant Author is Kendra Cooke's pseudonym)
Borrowed Time

Borrowed Time

Sam collected the time discarded along the path he trudged towards the old brick building. He scooped up lost hours from people scrolling on their phones. At the bus stop, while people moaned about the weather, he gathered spare minutes and packed them in the glass jar nestled within his satchel. He walked the stark corridors, inhaling the musty smell of the nursing home. Shoulders squared, he pushed open the heavy door. “Gran, I’ve brought you extra time.” He poured…

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Thirty-Six Hours

Thirty-Six Hours

They gave me thirty-six hours to live. I’m adrift in a nightmare as they talk about grief counselors and hospice. No one prepares you for the fragility of life, nor the urgency of its inevitable end. Unfulfilled dreams consume my thoughts, each as insignificant as a deflated balloon. Because now, more than ever, all I want is to live. A nurse joins us in the exam room that already feels suffocating. She apologizes, and mutters something about mixed-up files and…

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April Book Reviews

April Book Reviews

What Matters Most (Courtney Walsh) Emma Woodson is hoping Nantucket will be the fresh start she needs to raise her son in the wake of her husband’s death. She wants to renovate the apartment over the garage and rent it out to have regular income, but she can’t bring herself to walk in and be surrounded by all her husband’s belongings. Emma places an ad in the paper, and when Jameson Shaw shows up on her doorstep, she presumes he’s…

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Make A Wish

Make A Wish

They laid on the old frayed quilt and stared at the blue-black sky blanketed with glittering stars. A muffled silence enveloped the night, the distant echo of waves crashing on the ocean a soothing melody. Along the fence, a possum, pouch bulging, paused briefly to stare at them.  “Make a wish,” someone whispered. “Wishes aren’t real.” The night seemed to hold its breath, pregnant with anticipation and then, as if in response, a shooting star streaked across the sky, leaving…

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