Marie McGrath
Bio
Things that have saved me:
Animals
Music
Sense of Humor
Writing
Stories (163)
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Work In Progress. Top Story - November 2024.
Wisps of sunshine, lingering in anticipation of twilight, filtered softly through the cracked blinds in Chloë’s room. She shifted again in the bed. After what seemed a few days, her hips and back were complaining, loudly and long, about this forced incarceration. Had it been three days, or four? Or five? No matter the length, it had been far too long.
By Marie McGrathabout a year ago in Chapters
THE POWERS OF BABBLE
I suspect God was in a mood of particular pique the day He summoned me into being, perhaps fed up with all the annoying requests from the humans who never seemed happy with their situations. He persevered nonetheless, being God and all - adding this trait, subtracting that ability, enhancing this talent, fine-tuning what would be my emotional constitution – and sent me on my way earthward.
By Marie McGrath3 years ago in Motivation
No Good Deed
As the movie ended, Lena felt a great sense of relief. She had enjoyed the film, no question and, as always, was guiltily gleeful at having finished - but for the unpopped kernels - a medium buttered popcorn and a medium soda. It was a full-on treat night for her. And, yet, she felt the flutter of her anxiety working its way from her stomach to her throat. “Impeded, no doubt, by popcorn and carbonation,” she thought to herself.
By Marie McGrath3 years ago in Fiction
What say you, friend?
I had closed my eyes while she was talking. As usual she had a lot to say, mostly about things that either eluded me because they were scientific in nature or were just of no interest. She is a rather special person, admittedly a bit of an oddity given her interests and forthright confidence in her talents and undertakings. In the nearly six decades I’d known her, I don’t think we were ever on the same page despite the inordinate amount of time we had spent together over the years.
By Marie McGrath3 years ago in Humans
She died as she lived
The day she died was really, all things considered, fairly ordinary. The sun rose at its usual time, as birds started twittering and chattering themselves into full heraldry of a new day. That lasted until it became the time they expected her to refill their various feeders, scatter peanuts in the usual places and give them free rein as to who got what where, how and when. As usual, they hadn’t long to wait as she couldn’t relax sufficiently to get herself breakfast until she knew they were fed and they knew they’d been fed.
By Marie McGrath4 years ago in Fiction
TO BE CONTINUED...
We who were transferred to St. David School – Grades 7 through 10 – from the various other Roman Catholic schools in Waterloo in the fall of 1967 were, I think, fairly pleased with our new digs. For those of us in Grades 7 and 8 especially, things had taken quite a turn as we went from sitting in one classroom, with one teacher the entire day, to having a Homeroom where core subjects were taught by our Homeroom teacher in the morning then, in the afternoon, we got to wander from pillar to post and classroom to classroom for such exotic subjects as French and Guidance, Typing and Music. There was even a Science lab and dedicated Art classroom. The Science lab had Bunsen burners and the Art room held magical properties. Being a Catholic bunch, we also had one class a week in something called “Revelation” which, really, was just a word to lull us into a sense of not having religion jammed down our throats.
By Marie McGrath4 years ago in Humans
