grief

Morning Song

/ Liz H / 18 Comments

From Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr’s photo prompt: The Unicorn Challenge (04/21/23). No more than 250 words in length. Otherwise, let your creative flag fly!

Moon sets as sun rises, soon disappearing behind a tiny fist of palm. Palm no longer whips, panicked in the worst thunderstorm since forever. The marina is still, taking no damage from wave and wind; the marina is well-protected. That’s why she brought him here.

She looks down at him lying half-out of the water, still handsome despite the battering and near-drowning. He breathes, begins to rouse. There’s a decision to make.

These humans are so fragile!  Continue reading →

Giant Change

/ Liz H / 11 Comments
Kittelson troll boy with a cauldron

Hugo, as a young one, as seen by Kittelson

Hugo was unhappy. He’d been left in the tree swing too long. The swing, his favorite, hung from a branch of the biggest Douglas fir on Heffinger Mountain. A snack, a nap, a swing in the sack, and he’d be a happy boy all day. Continue reading →

Sundown

/ Liz H / 22 Comments
Red sunrise over ocean horizon

Source: Matt Fraser

“I’ll get that for you,” murmured Kathy, sighing, as she rose to fetch her mother’s favorite wool blanket; it had been in the family for ages, but it was the one Elinore had always favored.  Continue reading →

Comfort Cooking

/ Liz H / 7 Comments
Yellow autumn leaves

Credit: Dreamstime.com

Bok choy and thin-sliced carrots, a bit past their freshness date, sizzled in the pan. She sniffed the aromas of sesame oil, lime, and Moroccan baked tofu. The sharp scent of sliced onion softened, long layers relaxing, rolling and shining over her cooking spoon. Continue reading →