Image: Chippewa Valley news in WI
It was strange, that face, so familiar, yet not quite what he’d grown accustomed to seeing night after night. The nose was long, almost touching the sharp chin. The mouth was a straight slash, except where it turned down at its edges. And lately, it had been turning down at its edges more often than not. Continue reading
Elbows on bent knees,
Hands dangle between, wings on a gentle-breezed bird.
Butt planted, chilly on Autumnal Earth.
Grass spent, golden and crackling
Under a sky sharp as blue porcelain.
Leaves flicker down from balding trees,
The memories still, cut deep.
Pace the living room, arms hugging my chest. My growling belly needs comfort and protection, not for need of nourishment, but because it craves. Outside, snow drives sidewise, piling up outside the doors, gathering in dark window corners. Continue reading
It’s been hot here in the Twin Cities.
Hot and humid.
Hot and humid and COVID.
So much so, that folks are divided on whether to wear masks or not, and what the actual distance of six feet looks like: whether distance is different in an enclosed space versus an open space, whether the current air filtration system is adequate to dispel the exhalations (the coronavirus soup), whether six feet is buffer enough when one is active, whether adding a drink or two to the mix makes for exponential risk… Continue reading
Janina sat on the stone wall of the spring-fed pool. Behind her, her father’s castle clashed with loud music, shattering glass, and women’s high-pitched giggles. Her fourteenth birthday; she was sick of it all. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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