Browsing Category: Short Story

               Skin perspired in strength of the love: close-held embrace, bodies’ fit; in last and build in force of the give, and too of take, in action of the make; in near and keep of bodies to hearth and kindled fire.                 Beginning as dew, building to beads slow running over skin; she wiped his […]

               Gray of sky, heaviness of still, they rested before the hearth, clean and smokeless fire with subtle pops of heat-split wood and the sweet of cherry’s burn.  Both in lie, a distance between, they read in the heaviness’ hold, both in sense of the near to what was not yet arrived, sky’s burden in […]

               They rolled the paint and saw the change immediate to eyes—romance hue real and true, wet in the fresh and new; low elation in her body that could not help but rise beginning beneath then holding in her heart and found outward passage through the eyes.                It was making of a Dream.                […]

               It was just the way it happened: strip and spread pulse of wave in morning passion-take; her flicker of tongue through kept closed eyes, arms in tight wrap of his neck, chests strong in match of press, her legs around his sides; low sweep of his hands, strong hold in raise; flicker-tongue to deeper, […]

“For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also.”—Matthew 6: 21 _____                               Rain in the night, soft sound to window pane and wall in frame, she woke and sleep would not return.  Circle wisp of ceiling fan in sound and moved wind-stir, she lain on her side and then on back listening […]

               In receive and reading of his art, she found permission and encouragement to make her own—creations from sentiments long saved and stored in guard, safe, for when mind and spirit were prepared to make something of her treasures.                She went within, to all saved and stored and present still—wanting told and made into […]

               “Therefore take good heed unto time, how that thou dispendest it: for nothing is omore precious than time.  In one little time, as little as it is, may heaven be won and lost.  A token it is that time is precious: for God, that is given of time, giveth never two times together, but […]

               After love, story wrote, but it was to her through which it came.                Intimate and open, naked in her trust, she sat with story as it showed.  Word upon word, line upon line, paragraph into page, story wrote fluid and lyric as their bodies in the make: natural, finding, smooth and sweet, strengthen […]