“Come,” it said, gesturing with an upturned palm, the gentleness of the movement belying the rigidity of its fingers, its joints, the stiffness of the steel with which we’d made him.
Him? It.
Tag: fiction
The Turquoise River
She looked at the long, thin meandering crack trailing down the foundation wall like a coursing river. She felt compelled to trail her finger over the length of it, feeling the raspy turquoise concrete, cool under her fingertip.
“I’ll have to go get some sealant,” her husband had told her.
“But that will ruin the paint,” she replied, with an emotion that surprised her. “I don’t have any more.”
“You have to fix it before it gets out of hand.”
“But it’s such a small crack!”
He paused.
Harry the Little Hurricane
Harry got his name when he was still a little swirl of wind and rain far out in the Atlantic. But Harry had aspirations. He wanted to become a grand vortex of mighty winds, driving the ocean in front of him far onto land. He wanted his rain to drown the land, far beyond his storm surge, his wind to blow down trees, powerlines, to blow the very walls off the buildings in his path.
Destruction, afterall, is what hurricanes like Harry do!
Waiting
She peered out
From the darkness
With the sharpness
Of a scalpel
From the darkness
With the sharpness
Of a scalpel
Dissecting
The possibilities
Of his late arrival
![S[he] be[lie]ve[d]](https://pixtowords.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/she-believed.jpg?w=640)
S[he] be[lie]ve[d]
She believed.
He lied.
Normally, that would have ended it.
The saddest eye I have ever known
There is a sadness in her eye
Resolute
Time worn
With a history
The kind that lingers an entire lifetime
The kind that drags others down with it
Resolute
Time worn
With a history
The kind that lingers an entire lifetime
The kind that drags others down with it
Still, I can’t walk by
I can’t walk away
Pix to Words 