Author, former teacher, and educator at the New Orleans Museum of Art and the Smithsonian Institution.
Author, former teacher, and educator at the New Orleans Museum of Art and the Smithsonian Institution.
Author, former teacher, and educator at the New Orleans Museum of Art and the Smithsonian Institution.
Author, former teacher, and educator at the New Orleans Museum of Art and the Smithsonian Institution.
Balsamic Moon
Balsamic Moon explores the journeys and losses that survivors of a disaster endure, the courage and persistence required to come through them, and the compassion they evoke for one another. It reveals how some people find remarkable inner strength as they pursue safety and strive to remain whole.
Balsamic Moon explores the journeys and losses that survivors of a disaster endure, the courage and persistence required to come through them, and the compassion they evoke for one another. It reveals how some people find remarkable inner strength as they pursue safety and strive to remain whole.
Balsamic Moon
Balsamic Moon explores the journeys and losses that survivors of a disaster endure, the courage and persistence required to come through them, and the compassion they evoke for one another. It reveals how some people find remarkable inner strength as they pursue safety and strive to remain whole.
Balsamic Moon
Balsamic Moon explores the journeys and losses that survivors of a disaster endure, the courage and persistence required to come through them, and the compassion they evoke for one another. It reveals how some people find remarkable inner strength as they pursue safety and strive to remain whole.
Short Stories
Short Stories
Short Stories
Short Stories
Being Like That
Being Like That
Being Like That
Outside, the dew on the tall grass soaked my sneakers, and the smell of cedar, pine, and earth was strong. We followed the trail to the shore––a tunnel of branches, needles, and leaves. Beads of water sparkled, dangling from above––crystals on spiderweb chandeliers–– some splatting on our heads, while holes .."
Outside, the dew on the tall grass soaked my sneakers, and the smell of cedar, pine, and earth was strong. We followed the trail to the shore––a tunnel of branches, needles, and leaves. Beads of water sparkled, dangling from above––crystals on spiderweb chandeliers–– some splatting on our heads, while holes .."
Outside, the dew on the tall grass soaked my sneakers, and the smell of cedar, pine, and earth was strong. We followed the trail to the shore––a tunnel of branches, needles, and leaves. Beads of water sparkled, dangling from above––crystals on spiderweb chandeliers–– some splatting on our heads, while holes .."
Double Date
Double Date
Double Date
She set the bowl of steaming hot soup in front of him and handed him a spoon. As his hand grazed hers, he noticed several star-shaped tattoos on her forearm, which seemed to him incongruous. She projected such innocence and freshness, as though she’d come from someplace in the heartland, like Blooming .."
She set the bowl of steaming hot soup in front of him and handed him a spoon. As his hand grazed hers, he noticed several star-shaped tattoos on her forearm, which seemed to him incongruous. She projected such innocence and freshness, as though she’d come from someplace in the heartland, like Blooming .."
She set the bowl of steaming hot soup in front of him and handed him a spoon. As his hand grazed hers, he noticed several star-shaped tattoos on her forearm, which seemed to him incongruous. She projected such innocence and freshness, as though she’d come from someplace in the heartland, like Blooming .."
The Outing
The Outing
The Outing
Café Pierre looked like an old country cottage, with French doors that opened onto the sidewalk. Jayson walked toward it, telling himself to continue past if he felt uncomfortable. He had assumed the bar would be clandestine; like speakeasies he’d seen in movies. He never suspected that it would be quaint, or so public .."
Café Pierre looked like an old country cottage, with French doors that opened onto the sidewalk. Jayson walked toward it, telling himself to continue past if he felt uncomfortable. He had assumed the bar would be clandestine; like speakeasies he’d seen in movies. He never suspected that it would be quaint, or so public .."
Café Pierre looked like an old country cottage, with French doors that opened onto the sidewalk. Jayson walked toward it, telling himself to continue past if he felt uncomfortable. He had assumed the bar would be clandestine; like speakeasies he’d seen in movies. He never suspected that it would be quaint, or so public .."
© 2026 Alan Gartenhaus
© 2026 Alan Gartenhaus