The full sunlight on a late Summer’s day warms the house.
There is a feeling of change, for the sun is setting earlier, and a cool breeze touches the lounge.
Chloe feels the breeze move along her naked skin as she relaxes on a Saturday afternoon with a coffee and a book.
Tag: creative writing
Dancing Tongues
Six ladies meet at the “Celebrity Chef No.269th” restaurant in Melbourne for lunch at 1 pm for the weekly catchup.
They greet each other in the usual manner; fake kisses, judgemental grins, too much make-up, and designer clothes.
Once seated, they order drinks and lunch to make themselves feel like they have to be somewhere important.
Now the little things are sorted, the dancing tongues begin a convoluted quickstep.
Controversial gossip and catty bitchery dances on their lips as they release their hatred for their husbands, their children, and life in general.
By the dessert menu, which they make a point of resisting, they’re ready for a massage and a line of cocaine.
For Ukraine
Once, we stood with hope in our hearts, as we had a country of our own.
No longer treated as second class citizens by a collective hell, we thrived.
As the invasion takes hold, we think back to that rainbow and our country.
There’s only grey now, as history turns again.
Very Short Story: Cherry Blossoms
A tree stood near our fence; we knew not what it was.
Winter came, then went, as Spring started anew.
The tree grew buds, which bloomed into flowers, as the
cherry blossoms moved and danced for us in that Spring.
Very Short Story: Serenade
Lonely, a solitary figure steps through the park full of songs and poetry.
There’s no money made from being soft and creative, yet he hopes for love.
Penniless, he walks from window to window, attempting to serenade someone.
He walks home, wondering why he was made this way.
Your Notes
You invited me to take a voyage on the notes you love.
We journeyed together, listening to the way songs changed over time; we embraced our favourites and kept an open mind.
Now, I remember you by a series of your favourite songs, which I sometimes play alone.
Very Short Story: Rain
Some prayed for rain; others danced, many gave up hope as the dams dried up.
An old man sat looking at them, shook his head, and thought of all those times he scolded the rain.
What he’d give for drop now, yet then he hated how the rain always ruined his plans.
Very Short Story: Charlatan
A charlatan on some disused corner said, “You are what you love. Remember those words, for they will set you apart from the rest.”
Walking down an empty street thinking about the charlatan’s words, they rattle and bounce around the expanse of her skull: threatening.
A thought takes shape; She says to herself, “If you are what you love, then my organs are books, my brain is an archive of knowledge, the blood that runs through my veins is ink, and my soul is my many words.
Very Short Story: Hypnosis
A friend Convinced you hypnosis is the way to cure smoking, so you take a trip to a practitioner.
Looking at a pocket watch with intricate carvings of flowers and stems, you feel calm relaxation set in.
A voice from far away says, “Don’t be a naughty smoker, Anna”.
“MUM?”
Very Short Story: Coming Home
We travelled for so long to find my home. For years you travelled with me this way.
Now, looking from up here, the way is steep, and I am scared.
We are so close. Please help me make it to my home, then say the words I’ve longed to hear: You already know the answer.
C & K 