Storygram #147
The stacked stones that refused to fall greet me at the site of my most powerful memory. The trees have laid siege to it. The animals nest in its crevices. I touch the remains of my earliest home and feel that it is dead.
Storygram #141
They skipped up to the little chapel with their hands locked in an inseparable tangle. All they heard was their own laughter. All they thought was of the happiness they shared. All they felt were their rapidly beating hearts pumping out adrenaline saturated with love.
Storygram #140
The old swing, ya see it there, lad? That’s what me father an’ I erected when I were just a wee one like you. An’ that well standin’ there… Aye, that cursed well. I didn’t have your fancy swing sets an’ your outdoor games of every sorts, but I had that swing.
Storygram #129
She tossed dirt onto the embers of her campfire and took in the mountain view from her bluff. Such beauty could only reside in the vast landscapes she often hunted through. The human heart was too small to contain beautiful things.
Storygram #125
There are some spaces that you just remember. Your experience within them was so intense that you can recall the smells, sounds, and every detail you saw, right down to a misplaced string of fabric in the seat where you were sitting.