Browsing Category: Short Story

               “Could we make a living of Creative Lives?” he asked.  “Will books and stories someday sell, or is all a wishful thought?”                They spoke as children to one another, which is to say they hoped and dreamed.  In admittance of a life both desired, they walked in new-found openness like canopy of woods […]

               At evening shade, in yellow light fall-casting through the trees—that seemed to him through all their stay as dream—he felt the sadness and longing too that shown from her, dimming mirth and bright of her eyes like cloud before the sun.                It was a longing, not for more, but for that what they […]

               She bit his lip, heat of breath through teethed light-hold in steady bursts upon his face; cradle of hands in hold to his cheeks, fixed-focus stilled to hers; close of her arms against her sides, bent, and forearms’ pin between their chests in bodies’ and blanket’s wrap; tighten of her stomach, crumple of its […]

               “Don’t you love the way when energy seeks you as you are?  Speaks from a distance, speaks through signs, recognized through spirit and eyes; and maybe it appears for all, but you know that it’s for you—somehow, some way, whether or not you can explain?                Don’t you?  I do.” _____                She read […]

               They loved with door and windows open, cool of linger from last March-storm reaching full into heart of room, gray of a mist and sodden sky that carried still the songs of birds in wake, and in center of the oaken home, they lain together in blanket wrap; cool of the storm, scents that […]

        She was beautiful in afternoon, in sky that overcast in cloud and moving in of front; that on the wind carried spring-scent and verdure’s awake to life anew.         Even the bare ground blossomed.  Before her, on patch of earth that saw no sun in summer’s shade, she smiled on miniature […]

        “Don’t you love the way of tree-lines in the spring?” he asked as they stared on sight of one before.         To him, they seemed of painted brush dabbed in yellow-green—hand mixed in course and haste that left vibrance yellow-bright in flash and standing out from rest—and blotted over brown […]

        Moments and memories lived, with her, he saved as still-frames in his mind.  Inner-adornments, in decorate of soul, he greeted in welcome and often for pleasure and enjoyment of their seeing: white paint of her nails on feet, equally fine and fair; the coffee they shared, pyjamaed or less, in share of warmth […]

               She watched her nephew play in the lawn and thought to autumn dream envisioned in see and live of place and light—just as it was then.                Had she seen it wrong, or was vision still becoming, living now but further sign, premonition, and affirmation of what was to become?                She did not […]

               She felt him in the sign: in yellow light of golden hour in sky-fall all around, glowing western sky in immolation that did not consume, but awed, and cast in span to reach and frame of horizon in all directions of her vast and open view.                She felt him in the dazzle.  She […]