Mary Margaret Park

I. Len Oei awakened. His dreams blanketed him in desperation. Everything was still. An alarm clock sounded. “It’s time to get up and head out for another long hard working day,” the morning radio host said. Like a bird perched on a limb, Len sat up, swinging his feet onto the cool wooden floor. He [...]

I. Harmful—a word daring caution—Chance peers through the window. Another column of black smoke rises in the distance; a noxious slur of ash and debris, the atmosphere a tapestry of gray and black particles. It all started six months ago, well the worst of it anyway. He reaches up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, [...]

She was in a daze, sick to her stomach—Rose rolled over and buried her head beneath the covers—the afternoon sun kept poking through the blinds, a reminder that productive people didn’t stay in bed all day, a reminder that they got out and worked, and didn’t spend the whole day hiding, afraid to come out. [...]

Through all the workings, inner-working, outer-working, and workings about workings (?), I still write my arse off with all kinds of concepts and ideas besides the major productions (i.e. Devil’z Hide, Road Avenger, etc.) – About one of my titles that I’d like to share today… It’s called “The Maven of Thrift Store Lore”; a [...]

When does something that you enjoy ‘cross the line’, into obsession? Do we qualify our interests into ‘good and bad’, in order to justify our peculiarities (or habits)? I used to run 3 miles every morning, rain or shine, even when the wind chills were in the teens; people thought I was nuts or obsessed; [...]