by Hyacinthe Miller | Jul 4, 2024 | My Writing
It’s been more than two and a half decades since my mother left us, but the wound still burns as fiercely as it did back then. *** No one steps briskly through the spiked wrought iron gate that leads to heartache. Rather, the Angels of Anguish join forces with...
by Hyacinthe Miller | May 30, 2024 | My Writing
I’D WRITTEN THIS A WHILE AGO, WHEN MY DAD WAS ADMITTED TO HAMILTON GENERAL HOSPITAL. AS WE PASS ANOTHER SAD MILESTONE REMEMBRANCE OF HIS PASSING, I’M REPRINTING IT IN HIS MEMORY. WE’RE IN THE MIDST OF COVID-19 LOCKDOWNS AND HORRIFIC NEWS ABOUT FRAIL...
by Hyacinthe Miller | Dec 12, 2023 | My Writing
2023 First Prize Winner – One Book: One Aurora Short Story Contest They settled into the Black community in Montreal where dad worked as a machinist. But he was always restless. I remember him as a melancholy man of few words, solid but distant. The look in his...
by Hyacinthe Miller | Nov 12, 2023 | My Writing
2023 first prize winner, One Book: One Aurora Short Story Contest I’ve concluded that our minds are like gigantic cellular cupboards where we hoard memories, good and bad. Even as we chafe at the history that’s being lost as the older generation passes away, a...
by Hyacinthe Miller | Nov 1, 2023 | My Writing
Edited article, originally published in Crime Scene Magazine, A Sisters in Crime Toronto Chapter Publication We’ve read novels featuring female sleuths like Kinsey Milhone, Mary Russell, Stephanie Plum, Precious Ramotswe and Frankie Drake. None of them...
by Hyacinthe Miller | Sep 8, 2023 | My Writing
Chapter 8 of my novel Kenora Reinvented begins with: When my mother died, I ate. When Ravi kicked me to the matrimonial curb, I ate. When I had to quit the job I’d hated for decades and bills threatened to snow me under, I ate. That’s a...
