Tunnel Memory

Tumbling down the hill, like your shadow

Something is happening, you know that much. But you don’t understand. You are five and cannot know that death always comes sooner, rather than later.

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Unfurl

Unfurl

They cling to the branches a little longer this year, and it takes a second storm to scatter them. One rainy morning she rakes them into a pile, and the loamy smell sparks a memory. Abby’s voice caught in the drizzle.
“I never know if this is the beginning or the end.”

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Ice crystals

Imagined words for snow and ice

‘Cumulospiration,’ he said, and watched as she stretched out her hand and tried to grasp it. A small sigh as it vanished.

‘Gone,’ she said. And he shared her disappointment.

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Sand

Now is the time to cross the line

I drew a line of my own, but did not tell you. It followed the contours and undulations of your steadfast delineation. Rising and falling in parallel. Stretching forward to the horizon, to a point where the world falls beyond reach.

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Podcast 4

A Teacup Can Exist Without Your Gaze

You could never know, of course, what a china cup could mean to someone. She knew that as she watched you drink and place the cup back in its saucer, casually, as if a cup was just a cup.

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Misty Lake

Canada Geese

Out on the lake, the low plaintive call of Canada geese lingered in the mist, the sound reverberating in the moist air like an echo.

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Podcast 4

A Quiet Game Of Bowls

This story was first published by Visual Verse

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Blog Flower Blue Header4

Goodnight, my friends, goodnight

And it’s only art that can take you by the hand and show you the way towards joy, towards life.

Then up the mountainside, to wash your eyelids in the rain.

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Green Vortex

Spice Up Your Life

There’s blood. I taste it when I swallow, metallic and unmistakable, like the tip of a battery on my tongue, and when I try to cough it up, a hand touches mine and something bleeps.

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