
Barb Dukeman
Bio
I have three books published on Amazon if you want to read more. I have shorter pieces (less than 600 words at https://barbdukeman.substack.com/. Subscribe today if you like what you read here or just say Hi.
Achievements (13)
Stories (200)
Filter by community
Perms and Plaid
They were everywhere. If it wasn’t a perm, it was hair damaged by bleaching to blonde. Either way, most of the women at the country music cover band show had brittle hair. And if it wasn’t long hair, Karen-haircuts were insanely popular as well. I don’t know how or why I suddenly became a token hair stylist, but there I was. The white-headed women were swooning to the crooning of the singer. No one with scrunchies or hair otherwise tied up on the dance floor.
By Barb Dukemanabout a year ago in Beat
Henny Penny was Right. Top Story - February 2025.
This tale concerns a grouple, or group of like-minded people, who tried to tell the villagers of their country that danger was approaching, sure and swift. Of this grouple, many were men and women of science who studied and measured things. Their knowledge was posted on every streetlight, tree, and sandwich board in the village. They made sure that what they studied was available to everyone.
By Barb Dukemanabout a year ago in Fiction
Beowulf vs. the Dragon
In Geatland, Beowulf’s Mead Bar and Grill was rather close to a sleeping dragon’s lair. Loud music and laughter constantly filled the boisterous bar. Geatland had nearly fifty years of peace once King Beowulf came back home from killing the Lizard-Monster and its mommy. By helping out King Hrothgar, Beowulf came home with tons of extra money, heaps of gold, and plenty of cryptocurrency.
By Barb Dukemanabout a year ago in Fiction
Love you, Mom. Honorable Mention in The Moment That Changed Everything Challenge.
Her hand in mine. The six of us continued looking at the machine with the numbers, watching, waiting. Top number was the heart rate; below that were other numbers: blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and respiration. The glowing numbers in the darkened room changed every moment as the tendrils of tubes measured the last bits of her life. An hour earlier, I had jokingly bet which number would reach zero first – respiration. I would be right.
By Barb Dukemanabout a year ago in The Swamp





