Search for
"pat tompkins"

It was a stretch for a silver lining, but if the operation failed, she’d never have to listen to her husband’s limericks again.

Pat Tompkins writes from California.

When she couldn’t walk anymore, I sat on her lap and she stroked my ears. She never hit me. Her son thinks he owns me now. He smells bad.

Pat Tompkins writes from California.

No one wants this role. When you see me on the street, no matter how self-absorbed you are, you give thanks you’re not me. Move along.

Pat Tompkins writes from California.

This story won second place in the 2011 Nanofiction Contest.

This year we converted $50 in prize money into $400 of charitable donations to wonderful organizations working from animal health to global health, clean water to fighting hunger. Thanks to everyone who donated! Without further ado, here are Robert Swartwood’s selections for this year:

1. Johnna Talbot
2. Pat Tompkins
3. Sarah Stanton

Honorable mention: Jackie Bateman

Winners will be published beginning this week, starting with our honorable mention and running through Monday the 23rd, when our big (but equally small) winner will go live.  Thank you everyone for your generosity.

Between regrets of the night before and dread of Monday morning, he went to First Baptist and prayed the team he’d bet on would win.

Pat Tompkins writes from California.

The venture was risky and they had a history of screwups, but the Chance brothers—Fat, Slim, and No—decided they had nothing to lose.

Pat Tompkins writes from California.

He meant it when he said it. But that was last night. Things were different in daylight. Now he was pretty sure he didn’t love her anymore.

Pat Tompkins writes from Northern California.

Tea with milk was all she could keep down. Later, champagne settled her stomach. She could hardly wait to take off the tight white dress.

Pat Tompkins writes from California.