Browsing Category: Short Story

               Craving summer still, but not wishing life away, they made the most of winter day in refuge and rest from cold by fire hearth in among amongst the trees.                Sky was blue and shone in layered, varied shades that lightened of blue into near white as others shaded darker, holding threads of red, […]

               It was way his mind always remembered, choiced landmark in time and reference of a life: she in the wild, summer dress, free and embodiment of season’s spirit; stripe of tan over shoulder tops in widen and spread in fall to front, full sight in hide under cover of the dress; the freckles of […]

               Sky blue-pink warmed into rose above yoke spill of morning sun spreading gold beneath cloud hue in quiet, meek of dawn’s begin to winter day.                Another day, a mark of year, trip around the sun.  She came to him in heart of home, room of romance hue.  She dressed in gown of ivory […]

               For a moment they spoke.  For a moment they shared, alive in communion and presence, ephemeral in the lasting.                 Spirit sensed, and something more, she moved to walk away in ascent of stairs behind.  He watched her as she went; body’s movement, bend of knee, raise of leg and tone of straighten in […]

               Gray and gloom filled mist-fall dawn, sodden sky burdened of the weight.  Without the light, without the gold, he felt melancholy take.                 He did not want the feel.                He turned his eyes from outer world and focused inward to surroundings of their home: open space, old furniture, rug before the hearth—and she.  […]

               Sunday eve, game began and life in the city died, energy and spirit drawn and lost to gamed distraction.  City’s life tuned out, hers tuned in through the hours of aloneness.                In home, she went to table in bring of journal and a pen.  Alone, at rest, she went within—into histories and distant […]

               For gift, he wrote a story in hand for her to see: a story of love, a story of lusts, intimacies of romance.                He wrote his spirit.  He wrote his heart, his essence as an art.                Complete, at table in center-heart and inner chamber of their home, he gave for her to […]

               He recognized the romance signs, accents of spirit in sensual’s color and adorn: layered dreaminess of cloth in fold upon itself, smooth skin of fruit in matching hue in rest upon; her wear of shirt, long sleeved and fitting, in sensual’s hue of same—striking in contrast to fair of skin at shirt’s collar and […]

               Is this the hill you want to die on?                No.                It’s not worth the fight, not worth the fires.                 And so it happens, one cedes the little acts intended as signs of love; actions and efforts met in critique, in criticism, but never recognized in compliment.                 One’s actions are repelled.  […]