His nails were dark and sharp, spreading before him as he stretched first one paw, then the other. He backed further under the Juniper hedge.
She should’ve stayed home, not taken the canoe across the water. Continue reading
His nails were dark and sharp, spreading before him as he stretched first one paw, then the other. He backed further under the Juniper hedge.
She should’ve stayed home, not taken the canoe across the water. Continue reading
I lift my paddle for a moment, hearing but not noting the drip of water that slides off its smooth, blond curve. My canoe slices through the morning cool, bisecting and self-healing the waters as I pass. Below the dark water, silent lake grass caresses sand and small, secret pebbles. Continue reading
The very first hour before sunrise is the most powerful time of day. Continue reading
“Enough of that,” he snapped off the television and stepped onto the back porch. Easing into a wooden rocking chair, he cupped his hands around his coffee, Continue reading
Music, art and performance around Minnesota
An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart
A Fairy Tale Blog
Where writers gather
Contemporary Dark Fiction and Poetry
poetry and prose
Making literary art accessible 99 words at a time!
fiction and reflections by Margaret Sefton