Marylee MacDonald

Award-winning author and writing coach

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FICTION
A desperate mother goes to Prague to find her missing son (winner of the American Literary Review Fiction Prize, 2010).
Walter goes to Thailand and finds the locals staring at his birthmark (winner of the Matt Clark Prize from New Delta Review, 2009).
When Mother Gokhale moves in, Leslie Flynn must come to terms with her intercultural marriage.
CREATIVE NONFICTION
The true story of a fifteen-old girl's journey to motherhood.
An art project opens the door to a child's thoughts of death.

Key West

In flowered shorts and a halter top, Lana Buskirk sat in baggage claim, knees crossed, one foot bobbing. The luggage wheels of arriving passengers set up an unbearable din and reminded her of the whiny children on the plane. Horns hoked. Gusts of Gulf air blew through the revolving door. As college kids on spring break filed past, shedding their parkas and popping open cell phones, Lana filed furiously on her nails. To save money, she'd taken the early flight from Indy and put Todd on the later one, so he could talk his advisor into letting him off probation.
     Lana glanced up from her nails to see Todd shuffling toward her, a gym bag on his shoulder, big feet slapping the floor. As tall as his father, with that same straight posture that made him a natural leader, he could do anything he wanted to in life, if she could just convince him to marshal his resources. She didn't have much to brag about--no money, no husband, and no personal life to speak of--but she'd done a good job raising her boy. Not a good job. An outstanding job. He stopped to pull a sweatshirt over his head; his face emerged from the fleece. Days-old whiskers. Hair that blotted up grease like a paper towel under bacon.
     "Pulling all nighters?" she said.
     "My little Mommy." He patted her head. "New hair."
     Oh yes, the bangs she absolutely hated. Right after he'd called to tell her about his insomnia--Was it her fault he hadn't slept in three weeks? She hoped not!--three parallel lines had appeared on her forehead. Worry was counterproductive, her hairdresser said, squatting to make sure the bangs were straight. But he didn't have kids, so what did he know?
     Todd tossed her the sweatshirt. "Carry this, will you?"

Click the link below to read the full story, published in the North Atlantic Review, Number 20, 2009

Key West