I dreamed of us walking through the Melbourne streets.
The city was dark. All the people walked around with candles of different shapes and sizes.
We shared a candle and watched the way all the candlelight shapes moved on the building walls.
You and I never felt so free in the ambience of no electricity, yet the city never looked so beautiful.
There was no coffee to drink, no sweets to eat, no food to feast, so we stood for a while looking at the Yarra River.
Thousands of people with candles moved along the river, over the bridges, and into the night.
We used our dying phone charge to take photos of this beautiful night.
When we awoke, the photos on our phones were all blank. You couldn’t erase the, “I love you” that escaped your lips.
Category: Very Short Story
Birds
Tall trees hide many birds
as we walk into the forest.
Unfamiliar birds gossiping
puts our quiet time to rest.
Onward we go dreaming;
wishes for the old times.
We spread out rugs, food;
looking up, down, around.
A bird pounces. One, two,
four, bread slices disappear.
Another bird pounces softly;
fruit pieces are vanishing.
We nibble on what is left,
photographing the birds.
The Crystal Chalice
A crystal chalice is topped up again and again as he ingurgitated many bottles of claret.
In a haze of inebriated numbness, he imagines seeing a nymph stepping on seashells.
When he wakes, he’s lying in the pantry covered in eggshells with the dog licking his face.
Be my Pavlova
‘I love you like I love Pavlova. Will you be my Pavlova?’
‘Do you want me to be fruity and frisky? I’ll give you a double mango and a double strawberry surprise.’
‘Kinky.’
‘First, let me sweep you off your feet.’
‘What!? Don’t you drop me!’
‘Oh no, you’re heavy.’
‘What!!!’
‘Stopping flapping your legs.’
A cure for a broken heart
A broken heart touched him once. Now he works in a lab trying to find a panacea.
This thesis is solid, the results are collated, yet the cure never passes the testing phase.
The funding starts to dry up, and all hope seems lost. Then he finds the cure: love or death.
Father & Son
“It’s so grey. See the rain?”
“Yes. Do you see the way the grey extinguishes the last of the light?”
“I do. Son, the grey is beautiful. It reminds me of your Mother before the desolation of her life.”
“Dad, how sentimental you’ve become today.”
“Your Mother always knew my heart.”
Hydrangea Heart
Spring has come to your heart, yet I sit here in my Winter world wondering what you’re doing with all of those so-called, “friends”.
I love you, yet you are like a Hydrangea in bloom. Your love will last from early spring to late Autumn, yet it never sustains the Winter.
A brief farm moment
Cow manure hides in grass pockets. Pigs dream of staging a riot, while the chickens only care about designer hats. The cat meows, “Bastards”, and the dog barks at unseen things.
On the farm, a cool wind starts up as Bob steps in manure, and the cat meows, a smile, “Idiot”.
Colours
From a black and white world, you showed me there are colours.
You opened the door to another world. A world no longer black and white.
Now that you’ve touched me with your colours, I will never see the world the same way again.
Photo – Kristie Bonnewell
Very Short Story: The Prophecy
Under an amber moon, they rise from the cold soil to find their home once again.
The hollow hills whisper in anticipation of a prophecy being fulfilled.
Creatures hidden in the forest creep along to see the sea of Wombats shuffle slowly.
C & K 