Search

Leaves

Tag

fiction

three writing prompts received by email on a wednesday afternoon

I am dying, you see, and in that act of dying, I am realizing that death itself is an impatient schoolmaster.

shadowland

Maybe a physical shadow – skin cells left that have combined their DNA with the tendriled confusion of the clovered outfield...

crum’s morsel (or a thing changing)

Crum went on about this place, lingering on its smells and secret footprint and whispers of rodentine residents as if it was a temple set in the lush forests of some distant land. Or maybe he saw it as a kind of Terabithia where dreams rose and fell like a restless tide from the sleep of the dead.

haerie stories to tell in the park

More than that, though, the trees grew up like the earth’s own thick hairs – unkempt, unfettered. Cattails like whiskers filled in the low areas. And from every direction, the rot of the earth’s flesh puckered his nostrils.

faerie stories to tell in the park

...no need to cause any trouble, no need to watch her only child wander off and whisper strange things with a strange woman.

it didn’t leave its name

The thing that watches keeps chewing the air. The sound of its voice is like the husky clatter of corn stalks in the late fall – hungry. Hungry and damned.

Zoltar told me it would be so

...the paper itself will come apart, will dis-integrate, will allow itself to let go of itself, each piece becoming a new entity apart from the whole.

three out of four ain’t too bad

It was the result of a brokenness in his body.

times long past

He would sit there, with his tight frown, his pent-up bowels, his shoulders narrow again like a boy’s, his paper-thin skin shaking and he’d wait.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑