Francis Rosenfeld is a novelist and multimedia storyteller whose work explores society and human connection through fiction. To learn more about her work, visit STORIES by Francis Rosenfeld, or subscribe to her newsletter - The Margins on Substack.
Recent posts
-
River of Thought
Sometimes the river of thought flows through rapids, smothering the new born consciousness with the many faces of reality, so rich and thick with meaning you don’t even know if they’re yours, if they even relate to you, if they even exist, whether existence is something tangible, something whose presence you can guarantee tomorrow in this ever shifting unfolding of meaning that surrounds us. I am …
-
Spidersilk World
“So, what did Mr. Coulter teach you, Mary?” she turned to her niece, trying to put out of her mind the fact that the girl had mentioned the words spell and mirror in the span of a very short sentence, smiling and addressing a male stranger by his first name in the process. “Look, look at the mirror,” Mary happily obliged. The mirror was black, the one inside it had decided to remove himself for t…
-
Angel
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a little girl received an angel decoration. She couldn’t remember who it was that gave it to her, or on what Christmas Eve that was, but every year since she would look at the little angel and make a wish. Years went by and the little girl entered the grown-up world: she married, moved, had children, became a teacher, got a home, celebrated and cried, kept long…
-
Why Happiness is not a Sensible Shoe
You figure you need a pair of shoes and have a mental picture of what you want: a sensible choice that coordinates with your wardrobe and matches your busy lifestyle. You go to the mall and start eyeing the displays in search of what you already know you will buy. As you expertly scan the merchandise, a display draws your attention, you don’t know why, exactly, but you can’t take your eyes off of …
-
Elena: Reading from The Garden of Hope - Perfume. A story of growth.
The first thing Cimmy saw when she opened her eyes that morning was an intricate wooden vault, whose ribs intertwined and transformed in spellbinding ways, drawing her attention from one detail to another. “Are you going to start working or are you going to keep staring at the ceiling? By all means, let your patients stew in their problems until you’re done contemplating the meaning of life.” ‘Pat…
