Home of Anna Wess, Writer & Ghost Chaser
Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. And always remember, you have the power to change how your story ends. That last chapter is all yours. ********** Cornelia Hale had been sick for a good long while, and that was the solemn truth. She’d been pent up in that fine … Continue reading Sittin’ Up with Granny Corn
Now it was in the Springtime, as I recollect it, when the mountain was dotted with petite dabs of fresh pale green, a virginal shade from the Master artist’s sage palette, when I sat at the dinette in Granny’s modest kitchen, looking out the window at the blooming redbuds that stood out like merry boughs … Continue reading A Granny Witch’s Cookbook
People love bad news. They’ll rip it from its delicate wrapping like some sweet confection and devour it like they haven’t eaten in weeks. And they’ll gladly save you a piece, hoping you’ll take a bite big enough to choke on. But they never want to eat their own candy, of course. Bad news is … Continue reading While Atlanta was a Burnin’
There are worse things than death. But still we fight it tooth and coffin nail, no matter how much pain or sickness has eaten away at our very bones. We fight that inevitable sleep, like new babies not wanting to miss the next taste of sweet milk or bright flicker of light. We fight to … Continue reading O, Death: Mysteries of the Long Sleep
Some of us were born with a sense of destiny, I believe, an innate knowing that we were meant for more than this, that something out there in the wild yonder awaits us and knows our names. I also perceive that there are a few jagged stones placed in our paths by the monsters out … Continue reading Monsters Don’t Only Come Out at Night
They don’t expect much out of us Tazewell County girls. We were ruined from the start, thanks to geography and circumstances beyond Mama and Daddy’s control. I reckon they did the best they could with what they had. They didn’t expect much out of Mama or her Mama neither. Or Daddy, for that matter. Not … Continue reading Old Girls Like Us
Some folks will tell you that nothing lasts forever. They’ll remind you, without knowing for certain themselves, that everything that is will soon enough be what was. That dead men tell no tales, and ashes to ashes, and all those other warnings of ends. Those folks cannot see beyond the darkness of their finite assumptions. … Continue reading This House Has a Soul
