Browsing Category: Short Story

               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.  […]

               She wrote from heart of the inner chamber, catching story as it came.  Night gown of romance hue became dawn dress, brightened and sheened in return and rise of sun, in matching of the walls and sharp contrast of her fair, fine winter skin.                 Immersed in the story, she stayed within, eyes and […]

               Cold front blew.  Winter arrived.  Small, fine snow scratched to window glass.  Press of wind in strike of bursts and blow sounded deep in bass and echoed in a feeling through the walls of the home.                He looked through window, night still full, sound his strongest sense.                He lit a candle on […]

               Do you ever think back to past encounters and wonder why it is that you remember?  Was there reason for their presence, intention in encounter and a happening?  Why are some remembered—from only a few, brief and seeming inconsequential life-seeings—while others, known and relatively close to for years, pass from mind and spirit?                […]

               “In the history of philosophy, friendship was always considered a value, but Saint Thomas is the first to make charity a kind of friendship.  In order to reach this conclusion that charity is indeed a form of friendship, he takes pains to reason very rigorously.  He asks himself what are the characteristics of friendship.  […]

               November’s gone, December’s new, from first-snow in fall through day before that melted in the eve they woke to morning frost, gray, and ice on the trees bowing boughs weighted in carry of the burden.                Winter greens, last live of garden, shadowed darkly in a green suggesting death.  But the cold was not […]

               He stared, frozen, in recognize of overt sign—symbol, plain and clear, on cover of the book.  It is strange the way, when one opens and enters into the Spiritual, how spirits answer.                 For every force, there is equal and opposite reaction—test and measure of the soul. In seek and find of God and […]