Browsing Category: Short Story

               Tent of her nipples through summer shirt, raised and drawn in cool of April morn’s yellow-blue; bare of her legs in length and light, hip drawn and edged in yellow of sun, front shadowed in before; hold of their hands, fingers’ interlock, prints’ press into hand back of the other; smiles of lips and […]

               Christ was risen.  The tomb was empty.  All the world rejoiced (or hated, or denied—such compelled every soul to choose a side); but that was day ago, and Monday was new.                 What now?                What to make and live of it all?                Did she still believe, or was such just a day; […]

               “I write few tortuous stories,” he shared as they walked along city street. “ I write few twists and fewer turns—plots upended or changed of an unexpected…Mostly, they are attention to a present, or simple plot, foreshadowed, linear and parallel of lives that never cross.”                “Why is that?  Doesn’t it get boring, writing […]

               “You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture.  Just get people to stop reding them.”—Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 _____                “Do you still like Harry Potter?” he asked.  “I’m learning and won’t pretend to understand hierarchy of loyalties in what world terms liberal minds.  Are you allowed to love what you love, […]

               Cold returned and too the gray, but she remained as spring in spirit and day.  Paying no mind to the outward signs, she dressed again in sweater of the season.  Its loose of white and red and orange that glowed wore upon her as an ambiance that warmed and brightened all around.                Her […]

               Premature spring and follow-frost burned the redbud’s bloom.  Lilac-violet paled to gray, but in one week’s time, redbud boughs restored to hue as bloom dared to show again.                 He looked upon its colors beyond window in morning light.  No words or story came, and he was sad that it was so.                He […]

               He remembered a stream and a cave in the rocks from which a cold spring flowed; cool of the cavern in shade from the sun and summer’s heat; group of friends, all young then, many he had not seen or spoken to since.                It was many years ago.  Majority of life lived and […]

        Alone in field, working in method roll and pass of tractor in near and perfect lines, he thought of mountains.   _____         He thought of mountains and alpine lake—she in shade of the spruce and pines; sweet-acrid of scent and sight of her smile in broken dapple of light-fall through; […]

               I am horrible with words but better with gifts (so long as they are written).                 Today, Matthew and Audrey turn fifteen.  Like many fathers, what their presents are will be as much of a surprise to me as it will be for them.                I don’t often think in terms of objects.  There’s […]