The ship’s sail was the color of ivy. The ropes twisted up the mast and snapped in the wind as though they shared the hunger of the snapping dragon. The pale wood planks groaned with the shifting waves that clapped against the sides of the ship. People moved on the ship with the certainty that they were as much a part of it as the wood and sail. Their hands commanded the wind and defied the rage of the water. (more…)
Category Archives: Stories
This is for the Prose, which is the bulk of my structured writing effort.
She put on the music and closed her eyes. The cello sang out to her and she pressed her fingers to her mouth. Even now, she could hear him in the other room. There were numerous recordings of his work that were at her fingertips to listen to. But none of them ever sounded right. Was it the lack of the other stimuli? Seeing him weave and rock with the music. His face contorting into raw passion and intense focus. The slight vibration that could be felt through the floor. Perhaps these were the things lacking that made his recorded music feel empty. Without him present, his music had lost its soul. Turning the music up, she began Read the rest of this entry
This is now a sober place where the old cannot offer much comfort to the young. Staying within the burrow means hiding in the dark and moving by flickering lights that offer little to see by. Instead, they cast jumping shadows that further the sense of unease always present. Here is a place where the young can be kept safe. But I cannot help but wonder if the price of it is worth it. Some have never known the light from the sun nor the taste of fresh clover. Nibbling on these dry pettles is harder for me then it is for them. You cannot miss something you have never known. I long to leave here and sometimes consider doing so. But these Read the rest of this entry
I pull down the large, spiral bound note book from the shelf next to my desk. I turn off my computer and glance over at Muse. He seems uninterested. I tap him on the shoulder and he lets his head flop so that he can look at me. His eyes are large and lavender with silver lining the edges. There was once a time that just looking into his eyes could inspire me to write love poems and to look around at everyone I met with the hope that there was someone near me, waiting for love as well. Read the rest of this entry
She might have spent some time in jail, but she wasn’t ready to confess that particular sin. What would he think? It was bad enough that he was headed into the bathroom and was going to see the bicycle in the bathtub. There are somethings in her life that beg to have a decent explanation, but there usually isn’t one. These are the times that she wished was a creative story teller and could come up with something witty and funny. Instead he would come out of the bathroom with a puzzled look on his face and not ask. That’s impolite. No one ever asked the obvious questions. Read the rest of this entry
I’m sitting here, naked in the living room, and listening to his sister Mary’s singing trickling up through the floor boards. I’ve never met her, but in some ways I feel that I know her better then he does. There is no chance that I will ever meet her, since I never leave my apartment. I haven’t for years. There is nothing out there for me and everything comes here without problems.
I look up and out the window. As always, he is standing on the roof top and I know that he is looking at me even though I cannot see his face. It’s just the way that he is. Most likely, he is Read the rest of this entry
But he knew it was a stupid thought. The dead did not dance. They were gone. Nothing remained after death. Her body had been burned up and her ashes spread. There were no more dances. He’d long ago lost his chance.
It was strange, the things that he regretted now that she was gone. He wondered if he had ever told her how much he loved her. Perhaps his actions had been enough to make her know. But there are no certainties like a declaration. Read the rest of this entry
The fire was bright and hot. It felt comforting against the cool night air. The breeze picked up the smoke and swirled it around. Sparks flitted and then died. The music was loud and she could feel the pounding of the drums in her chest. She danced in the heat and light the fire cast. Her shadows flickered and scampered in impossible directions. Read the rest of this entry
Sitting on the hard bench, I closed my eyes and muttered along with the prayers I’d heard since childhood. But today was different. Even though everything was the same, it was all different. My brother’s death left an empty space next to me on the bench. People stood in the back; made no effort to claim the vacancy. I’d laid his bible next to me once it was apparent that I would be sitting alone. Read the rest of this entry