Curling, In Amongst The Glossy Blooms...

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Curling, in amongst the glossy blooms, the fox dreamt sweetly of the hours before. The dreadful night, sharp with a slicing wind and high bright moon had gone at last and the drifting dawn had arrived to warm her. The light grew, and with it the heady scents of a harvest day. She had trotted through the sandy grasses, so astonished at how alive she felt, how the warm sun seemed to joyously lift her paws. Speckles of seeds danced in the air and she felt so entirely safe. Nourished and safe.

The Room Was Awash...

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The room was awash with gloom, the flowers faded into shade, their dead heads darkening the window sill, the grey light sneaking around their stalks and creeping in amongst their brittle leaves. She walked into the room, her mood as misty as the winter light. She languidly made her way towards the window and leant against the frame, her sweet eyes turning into cloudy pools, overcast with old forgotten sorrows.

Oh dear, after all that, I had another knock-out day yesterday. Hey ho, up I get and try, try, try again! 

She Lifted The Sea...

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She lifted the sea. The waves tumbled through her fingers, their foam fizzing gently at her touch. Under the watery veil the seabed glinted faintly, the tiny discarded shells were scattered all around, their hollow hearts now empty homes of sadness.

Have lost quite a bit of time lately thanks to some frustrating ill health, ah well. I'd hoped to chatter a bit more here during the past few of weeks but writing a few story sentences was a far as I ever seemed to get. Bizarrely, writing little story snippets is one thing I can actually do when I've got migraine things going on, possibly because I use a different part of my brain to concoct them?! Who knows!

Had some extra health nonsense messing me about the last few days, hence the extra quietness, but with any luck normal service will now resume! *cross fingers*

She Hurtled Towards The Moon...

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She hurtled towards the moon, her own light streaming behind her, the force sent the seeds scattering. The stars sparkled in anticipation as they saw her pass, welcoming her into the black night. Everyone left behind on the ground stared after her, with wonder and the shadow of the light glittering in the their eyes.

They Swept Like Shadows...

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They swept like shadows, velvet black wings against the fading foliage, swirling in an air thick with magic. They guarded the ramshackle cottage, casting themselves around it like flying wires, their beaks the biting barbs. Only the whisps could make their way through.

They Danced Under A Confusion...

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They danced under a confusion of dark night clouds, their dresses gleaming with harsh moonlight. They were brought here to the grave, their slender arms no match against the shackles, the marble cross was bare white and stark against the towering trees. They danced with their hearts in their feet, beating out a wild cry to the dry bones.

Long Ears Swirled...

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Long dark ears swirled in the twilight, rolling among the shadows of the flowers, above the mauve clouds hurtled across sky. The hares filled the evening with their anxious dance, leaping in the cool light, thundering their paws along the soft earth. The dirt cried out, it wished for sleep, tired of the long summer day. Fat drops of rain began to fall, splashes of sorrow to soothe the ground.

She Brought Her Cupped Hands...

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She brought her cupped hands towards her face, they broke through the light, which pooled around her bronze tresses. Her little maid knelt before her, quiet, solicitous, skin as light and white as her linen robes, eyes as pale as moonlight. They prayed, they sang to the milky dawn, they sang to the rising tide.

Amongst The White Heaps...

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Amongst the white heaps, the silent brilliance of the snow, sweet blue shadows danced along the fence posts. Around the houses, amongst the spindle trees. The garden was filled with bird tables, little hooded ones with pointed roofs. The snowflakes iced them, little seed cakes sitting out in the greying skies. A man walked down the path, bundled in heaps of of dark garments, a lidded hat fending off the weather. He waited until the bird came, it fluttered down to the table, and he fed him from his own gnarled hand.