There is a little pool of light, clear cool water deep within the forest. After a good long while in the house in the woods waiting for the man to say something, anything — the man told the girl about it. He said she had been there before. She was confused by this. How could…
Tag: story
we watched the sun over the water
I guess I’m on a kick where I’m writing stories that take place in previous stories I wrote… Or at least in the worlds they were from… How meta. 🙂 This is one from a tv pilot I’d started writing a while back that I haven’t gotten very far into, but who knows maybe this…
entwined
This is inspired by a play i started a while back. The two were dressed all in black. Skin tight. Shadows around their eyes and half their faces in the darkness of the warehouse. bright lights that changed colors, patterns. Flashes and spotlights. The two, motionless like a tableau, like statues. Expressionless, stoic faces. Not…
the girl in the forest
This was the 102nd day she traveled back to the house in the woods to wait for whoever or whatever kept the light in the window going. She sometimes let her imagination wander and like a group of little sprites it would send her down a path wondering how it happened. Was it a spirit or…
nightime flowers
She twirled the little flower by pressing her fingers together. She brought it to her nose inhaling the scent. She laid back and stretched the flower above her then let it fall into her hair. She did this until her hair was decorated with little flowers. She looked at the sky and thought how it…
as the bandage came off
The woman had bandages around her back and her arm. She didn’t bleed any longer. The wound had mended. Instead, a heavy stiffness and ache permeated her body. She had fevered dreams. While she slept she sweated the sickness out. She jolted and turned in her sleep as if even her dreams gave her no…
the stone within her hand
In the morning under the hot sun, she peered closer to a smooth stone about the size of her palm. She held it close to her eyes in between her hands. It was smooth on all sides and the color of an eggshell. She turned it over several times in her fingers. No edges, divets…
a trail of smoke
away from the beach and the setting sun away from the sound of waves and the waving grass away from the distant mountains glowing red with the last light of day away from the canopy of rustling trees with jasmine scented air traveling through their branches away from the trickling river that ebbed and flowed…
The Dynamics of Groove 