My journal of big words and pretty pictures
“No good deed goes unpunished.” Save a life, and how is your benevolence repaid? Your lifeline, the thing that connects you to the world, your family, your friends, is severed. Not cut with the finesse and skill of a surgeon, but mangled slowly, painfully, like a wild animal caught in a trap forced to gnaw its … Continue reading No good deed…
In yonder copse, where the trail shies from the cursed wood, a secret dwells. Ghost stories shared around a dying campfire tell of a child who wandered into the trees while chasing fireflies, never again seen. Enchanted by the tiny, twinkling luminescence, the child pirouetted and leapt around the glade. A carpet of emerald moss … Continue reading Yonder copse
The expansive lawn spread out under massive oaks shrouded in lacy shawls of Spanish moss. A light breeze ruffled the delicate fringe giving the illusion the trees were dancing. Not as stately as Scarlett’s Tara, the manor and its land were palatial to Lynn, her dream come true. Her only regret was that to possess this grand … Continue reading Purple with envy
Looking back, Widow Winslow wasn’t a very convincing recluse. She’d only come into town Saturday mornings when she’d drive her 1955 Ford Fairlane to the Farmer’s Market where she rarely spoke to anyone other than to ask Satchel Brewster about his heirloom tomatoes or haggle with Natty Crowe for some of his sourdough buns. Sometimes … Continue reading Looking back
Alone on a Sunday night after a long day at the beach, I can still taste salt on my lips, and feel his warm hands on my skin. Too distracted to sleep, my emotions come in tumultuous waves of contradictions. At once drowning in regret over a shipwrecked affair, then grasping for the new lifeline … Continue reading Eye of the storm
The once bright yellow rocking horse seat was all that remained of the playground. Lyle was surprised the useless relic, battered and worn from use and disuse, wasn’t ripped out of the ground when the rest of the park was razed. It was cruel if left as a backhanded memorial for the kids who disappeared, Lyle … Continue reading Playground relic
Thin spiral notebook 