Cold Lake Anthology 2021

By Cold Lake Publishing

Cold Lake Anthology is a compilation of selected works from Burlington Writers Workshop, a vibrant writers' community based in Burlington, Vermont. The works featured in this anthology represent the diversity, talent, and artistry found among our membership. In a variety o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cold Lake Publishing
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736876718

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Cold Lake Anthology 2021

Copyright © 2021 by Burlington Writers Workshop

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Printing, 2021

Cover photo: Kristin LaFollette

Cold Lake Anthology 2021

Cold Lake Anthology 2021

Selections from the Burlington Writers Workshop

Cold Lake Publishing

Contents

A Note from the Editors

Ice - Mary D. Chaffee

The Underfunded Botanical Garden - Ray Hudson

Blood in the Water: Too Much Transpired - Karen Kish

To My Postcard Collection - Tricia Knoll

Old Books - Peter Snow

Accidia - Peter Snow

How I Hang On - Malisa Garlieb

On the Playground - Ann Fisher

The Yellow Wallpaper* - Elisabeth Blair

Stroke - Elisabeth Blair

The Critic - Kristin LaFollette

Golden Shovel: No Doubt He Thought of Everything – Candelin Wahl

Woman on Fire # 4 - Sharon Lopez Mooney

The Myriad Ways the Concubines Pleased the Sultan - Kellie Fleury

Abram and the Dug Well - Ben Johnson

Moonlight - Olga Hebert

Storm - Leigh Gavin Harder

Routine - Jeremy Void

Dressed - Roger Watters

Dining in Japanese - Deborah Garcia

Digging Up the Bones – Nancy Hayes Kilgore

Form 4-B, to be attached to application materials, in consideration of employment (revised 10-2017) - Jonah Meyer

Author Biographies

Acknowledgments

A Note from the Editors

All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.

Toni Morrison

We invite you into the waters of memory, reflection, and reverie fathomed by the writers in this 2021 issue of Cold Lake Anthology.

From our opening story—Ice, by Mary Chafee, in which the main character undulates between dream and reality and comes to face his own death—to the philosophical and poetic musings of Jonah Meyer’s closing piece Form 4-B, to be attached to application materials, in consideration of employment, the stories and poems in this collection pull time from its depths, grasp it by the tendrils, and invite us to understand. 

The beneficial aquatic plant Chara can be planted by simply throwing it in the water, where it will grow when it receives sunlight. Our memories, reflections and reveries are like that: they grow where we provide them with light. Archaeology, historical recounting, family history, love’s yearnings, and nostalgia for the accoutrements of the past are realized here.

We hope you enjoy this anthology. As you find yourself submerged in memory, reflection, and reverie, may there be sunlight to guide you through.

Elaine Pentaleri

Nancy Volkers

Ice - Mary D. Chaffee

When the ice storm struck he’d been dreaming of his dead wife, her pleasant, creased face turned away, talking to someone he couldn’t see. He woke in the darkest part of the night to the sound of the wind rising in the tall pines beside the driveway, to Bella whining nervously in her basket.

Sleet hissed down, then hail rattled like sharp little claws on the deck’s warped floorboards. The old house creaked. Downstairs a door rattled in concert with the wind’s gusts. The wind was stronger in the pines now, starting low and building to a roar.

Bella jumped onto the bed, seeking comfort. Pushing the little dog aside, he fumbled for the bedside lamp’s light switch, but when he flicked it back and forth nothing happened. Favoring his knee, he hoisted himself carefully to his feet and thought about where a flashlight might be.

The house shook as the nor’easter gathered strength. The breaker box seemed a long way off. After a moment he clambered clumsily back into bed, pulled the old down comforter around him, and managed to fall back to sleep.

Thanks to god or the electric company, the power was back on in the morning, He fed Bella and shooed the reluctant animal out the back door into a world sheathed in ice. It glittered with malevolent beauty, forcing every twig and branch to bow to its authority.

Bella scratched at the door and he let her back inside. He fixed himself a breakfast his doctor wouldn’t have approved of and took a cup of instant coffee to the front room, leaving the greasy frying pan and dirty dishes to clean themselves.

The sun had already been and gone. New snow clouds were moving in, turning the sky a thick, darkening gray. Peering through the smudged glass of the sitting room’s bay window he spotted what might have been the white mail delivery truck, almost invisible against the streetscape’s bleached background.

He felt a small thrill of anticipation. The mailman’s – no, the mail delivery person’s – regular visit had become the high point of his day. No matter that the mail usually consisted of advertising for items he didn’t