“Peek-a-boo!” As Emma’s peal of laughter filled the sun-dappled air, her parents, Tracy and Eric, turned from the picnic table towards the sound of their daughter’s voice. Tracy gasped. Their daughter stood before an ancient, sun-kissed tree, slowly covering and uncovering her eyes playing the age-old game with— “What is that?” Eric asked, his voice
There were no more surprises that day until the sky began to darken. She looked to the west. “Oh!” she gasped, as a face formed before her eyes. “Hello!” she called. “I guess the Universe is always saying hello,” she said as the clouds rearranged themselves and the light faded from the sky. “You just
That morning there had been a lady bug waiting to greet her on the bathroom mirror. It seemed an auspicious event. “Hello,” she whispered to her polka-dotted guest. And though it was not a response she could hear, she felt sure the ladybug returned her greeting in kind. “I wonder what other surprises might be
When he was still young and green, he liked to say, “I’m separate from you.” Her reply never varied. “That’s how it should be.” Even so, he suspected there was something beneath her quiet, calm patience, a secret that belied her answer. He thought it might have to do with the echoes of her he
Red-tipped points collide with circles within an illusion of stars creating timeless patterns that collapse to a center just in time to make you forever lost.
She wonders when there will be time again to court her Muse. To take her for long, solitary walks, and plunge with her deeply into dreams, where they dove together without caution, through tempests of color, desires, emotions, only to merge back into the world, no longer ordinary, having been touched by the sublime, having
Two sets of wings shimmered as the dragonflies, lifted by invisible currents, danced overhead locked in an ancient ritual and she watched from the ground, the sun caressing her skin.
Someone left a book in her mailbox today—”Woe is I, The Grammarphobe’s Guide to Better English in Plain English.” There was no note, only a faded orange post it with her name written in all caps, in unfamiliar handwriting. She knows she’s not the best at grammar. Lie? Lay? Which is it? She can never
Shell. A perfect still life presents itself.
“Go on,” Lettie prompted. “You have ten minutes.” Ten minutes sounded like a life time to Ayn, but she squared her shoulders and walked inside. She stood just inside the threshold as the door clicked shut behind her and stared at the wall opposite her. “It’s glass,” a voice to her right spoke. Ayn jumped