The smell of sweet blossoms fills the air. The Water Nymph sleeps at the bottom of the well, only surfacing when visitors come to fill their pails. She observes them as an unseen presence.
Until one day, a young lad comes for a refreshing draught. Continue reading “The Water Nymph”
“The creature sits next to me. The metallic stench of blood fills my senses. Closer now, its cold breath hisses by my ear. I’m losing consciousness, fading, falling down a black hole in the midst of this chaos…”
Continue reading “The Shadow”
It was one of those crisp Autumn days when the sun filtered through the leaves of yellow, orange and red. It looked as though all the woods were aflame with a great witches’ fire. Now, after chopping wood all afternoon, I lay there in the warmth of that arboreal tapestry, looking up through the branches at patches of blue and white sky. Lost in thought, I was stroking my beard when I heard the distant sound of small feet crunching along the nearby path. Reluctantly, but curious, I lifted my heavy head and sniffed the air. Notes of wine and cake, as well as something else more sweet and rare. Continue reading “The Wolf’s Tale”
Lately, I’ve been taking a writing class that focuses on fairy tales.—Not the Disney interpretations, but the earlier wonder tales handed down from centuries, where ghastly things happen to children and adults, alike. My recent class assignment was to pick up where a traditional wonder tale ends and write what happens next. I chose the story of Vasillisa, which describes the Baba Yaga—a witchy character who lives in the woods, in a hut that stands on chicken legs. In celebration of the start of October and the coming of Halloween, I’m sharing my story here… Continue reading “Baba Yaga”
I remember playing the Ouija board with with my Grandmother when I was a little girl. We were on her screened-in side porch, one of those warm Summer nights when all the crickets performed their hours-long symphony.
Continue reading “9 and 6”
A Fairy Tale
In through the back door
with the southerly wind,
from the lush Autumn yard,
the black cat strode in.
Continue reading “The Black Cat”
A sudden storm came and broke the branch of our little dogwood tree. I watched the weather radar on my phone app as the storm mushroomed into red and orange from out of nothingness, directly above us. Continue reading “Severed Limb”
Cruelly, the flowers
grace my vision. —
Their beauty fills my senses
and feeds my soul.
This fleeting, beautiful moment
that I cannot hold. Continue reading “Cruel Flowers”
There’s a creative memoir writing group in town. It reminds me of the movie, Fight Club. A masochistic support group, for lacerating the blisters we’ve gotten in life. Breaking the skin to let the demons escape. Fighting with ourselves, like Tyler Durden punching himself over and over again… Continue reading “Masochistic Support Group”
The loop of our thoughts, cycling over and over. The repetition of life and our compulsions therein. These ethereal elements flow like water over our minds, leaving indentations and scars akin to valleys on the land.
We are flawed in this, but all the more beautiful…
Continue reading “Sweet Sisyphus”