The Right Gift (119 Words)
No, not flowers. He liked flowers, but it didn’t seem right.
She sat, looking down at the quiet ground that was so unlike him. Davy had never been quiet. He had never stood still. Even in sleep, he was always tossing and stealing the blankets for himself. Peg’s mouth crooked in a smile. Darn it, she missed him.
But he wasn’t here.
What Fire Left (155 Words)
It was gone. A lifetime of memories was in the space of one day nothing more than burned and discolored bareness. It was hard, looking at what was left of the building, to believe that it had ever been a home at all.
Marble Garden (822 Words)
A silent, solemn figure to steal through the graves, his long cloak trailing in ebon folds as if he hurried night into the evening’s blue mists. Past the disconnected lines of wooden crosses he walked, mindless of the old and pausing in a moment’s fixed grief at the newer. His glance swept the cracked marble of aging stones but never for a moment did his purpose falter, and his direct progress led him straight to the gnarled cherry, shedding vibrant color in sharp spring wind.
How often is it said that life’s a dream
And we the leaf-light drifters in its wake
Who spin by winds on ripples made of “seems,”
The visions Heaven breathes for our soul’s sake:
A world caught in a water-drop we see
That shines for one brief moment like a star
Within this vale of mixed reality;
I Knew a Winter (130 Words)
I knew a winter in his spring.
Fair as freshly fallen snow
Quiet as contented woe
Stood apart with frozen face
Welcomed to himself, disgrace.
Flight of the Birds (99 Words)
“Some say that cranes are the spirits of the dead,” said Allie. “When you see one, it could be the spirit of a loved one watching over you.”
Worth It (225 Words)
It was a beautiful sight. Daria leaned over the boat edge, letting her hand trail in the water. The current pulled past her arm, troubling the reflection of fireflies and starlight. The moon shone clear, and the silver glow lit the world like another kind of day, bright and enlivening.
“Do you think it’s worth it?” she asked.
Ruad was barely awake, resting in the boat. At her question, his eyes half-opened.
“What do you mean?”
The Patron (275 Words)
There was an artist who was known to paint one picture. Always it was the same, the same distant gray-green mountains and the dark, hilly plateau where the city had once stood. With only that one image to offer, people lost interest in the man’s art and his house would have fallen to ruin if it wasn’t for the attention of one customer.
She visited him every day to see how his new work was coming. Whenever he finished, she bought the piece, giving him a high price without waiting to hear what he asked for. No words were ever exchanged between them. That, like his art, was a ritual never forgotten, never changed. Who the woman was in her rich strange clothes, with her frightening piercing eyes, no one knew. They knew the artist, and knowing what he had lost and the disorder in his mind, they were afraid to ask him.