where the writers are

Patricia Snodgrass's Writings

Short Story
Borrowed from the Website, Hicker Photo.  all rights reserved.
Published for the Winter Ed. of The Wheel
      Masterpiece Mabon, 1985             After spending weeks in Austin and the surrounding area poking through quarries and landscape shops Jim and Amy Thorpe found the perfect stone.  It was four feet wide and five feet high and composed of the same rose tinted granite that gave the Texas State capitol its pale pink tinge.  Jim, who had Michelangelo’s eye...
Short Story
This piece appeared in the online publication TAPESTRY.
Come Play With Me-1-I hated Dallas.  It was enormous, even in the 1960’s, claustrophobic, hot and sprawled like a concrete octopus across the prairie.  Before my family and I moved to that short stay in the old Brownstone apartment complex, we lived in Foyil, Oklahoma, and I attended Bushy Head Elementary.            It broke my heart to have to leave the little...
Short Story
Podcast at Undead Jake's Podcast. I've seen it floating around other pod casts that picked it up later on. Here's the original version. the original title was 'Jail Bait.'
One-Drop Charlie -1- It was a surprisingly simple thing to do.  Find an empty two-bedroom house in a sparsely populated but upscale housing development and set up shop.  Set up his gasoline generator in the garage and the computer in the spare room down the hall and have his thirteen-year-old “daughter“ with the same penchant for blood as he to expose herself on...
Graduate Poetry Submission
It was a jolting shock that icy fingers pulled her down. Her lungs burned, setting her brain ablaze, until everything within her screamed Red! Red! Red!   Then the calmness, the peace that whispered with the undertow, the ocean sighing, Wait! Wait! Wait!   The ocean exhales, drawing back its skirt exposing her gleaming earthen womb encrusted with sparkling...
Short Story
Earth from Space
Unpublished. Although it came close several times. It just never quite made the cut.
The world shouldn't end in such profound silence, Norman Phelps thought as he watched the carpet of grass creeping across the parched desert floor.  The end of the world should be dramatic like the atomic war in Nevelle Shute's "On The Beach," or in a hail of asteroids, or at least by the final Trump of God.  But nothing like that occurred.       In...