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…
Tag Archives: Character sketch
During her walk that afternoon, she came upon her next surprise. A face. Staring up at her from the asphalt. A mask of varied color, with one eye coyly closed, the other staring boldly at her, and green lips curved in a cupid’s bow smile. “Hello,” she said to the leaf, before the wind carried…
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…
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…
Silence… …sweet, blessed void… Refuge. Solace. And… …the only space… in which she can truly hear.
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…
He is twice her size. She straddles the park bench, her back to his chest, face towards the sun. Encircled by his arms. His winter-pale legs—golden hair shimmering—encase hers. His warm lips graze the back of her neck. She peers over her shoulder as a woman walks by, one of many on this sunny spring…
The tide rose without her noticing. She is drowning. In an ocean of voices. Their clashing rhythms crashes over her. Deep. High. Fast. Slow. She imagines a bubble, like a deep-sea diver’s helmet, set squarely upon her broad shoulders. Meant to keep the voices out. To keep her thoughts her own. Her own. The voices…
Haley nodded. “You can wait out here in the lobby,” the museum lady said. She escorted Haley to the a brown chair that sat in front of a glass wall and beneath a car suspended from the ceiling with rods of light coming out of its gleaming white body from every possible angle. Haley sat,…
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