by Shelly Reuben on December 3rd

Once upon a time, there was a little, mischievous elf. His hair was sliver-blond, his eyes were silver-blue and ..

by Shelly Reuben on November 5th

They spend more time alone than almost anyone, Able to stand long hours in line Without seeming to get bored. They stare at, ..

by Shelly Reuben on October 1st

To correct a misapprehension held by many writers (and readers), typographical errors are not mistakes. They are spite oozing ..

by Shelly Reuben on September 3rd

This little story is about endings and beginnings. It introduces two characters and a gate. Even though there ..

by Shelly Reuben on August 6th

Sometimes, life gives you a gift. It could be an ideal mate. It could be the dream house you’ve been ..

by Shelly Reuben on July 2nd

The word “art” lends itself to drama, since artists are so often portrayed as passionate, arrogant, and angry. Think ..

by Shelly Reuben on June 2nd

I have always romanticized newspapermen. My image of a reporter was (and is) right out of a 1940’s movie: ..

by Shelly Reuben on May 7th

I don’t know why you kept asking me if I’d write about you. I told you I never write ..

by Shelly Reuben on April 2nd

I am sitting at my dining room table. To my right are five issues of the National Geographic. ..

by Shelly Reuben on March 5th

One day after I had been investigating fires for about a year, I was standing outside a private residence in ..