Red moves. It can’t sit still. It follows the jazz in staccato twitches. They speak. They thank each other. They start a dance in what should be confusion and instead... perfection.

From the short story,
"Red" by Jude Bradley



This is my workspace.

As part of my writing

classes, I express

to my students how

important it is to

create a comfortable

area in which to work.

I love my attic room;

golden walls, slanted

ceilings, they form a

fortress around me

where I can welcome

my characters as they

come to life. They're

safe here, as they

emerge into existence.

         Photo: Cynthia Anne



With every moment, I taste you again. Each memory fills my mouth. You entered with your turbulent, spinning madness and filled the corners, up to the ceiling, painted the walls a brilliant red, and told me it was the color of you.

From the short story,

"Gone Soon" by  Jude Bradley

© 2017 by Jude Bradley. Proudly created with

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