The Huntress’ narrow prow cuts through darkness,
The only sound a plashing single paddle.
Destination known, she’s grateful to see nothing
Below the river’s surface. Continue reading
river
Lunch Break Away
Honestly, she could sit here all day and watch the water, the gulls, and the waves wink their private jokes to one another, the sun heating her pale, white shoulders as she leaned over the steel railing that bordered the sharp drop to the river below. Continue reading
Light At the End of the Tunnel
Source: Cypress swamp near Caddo Lake, NE TX. Erich Schlegel (08/08/2009)
Dipping her paddle expertly, Sara struggled against the increasingly muscular pull of the current. The sun rose, set, and rose again, unnoticed under the moss-choked cypress trees that canopied the dark creek. Continue reading
Ophelia Persisted
“Pull off it. Like a sweater!”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Like a sweater. Pull! Off! It!”
“Are you having a stroke or something?”
She glared at him, vibrating with rage, and pushed the sleeves of her washed-out taupe cardigan up over her elbows and planted her feet.
He sighed, slid his glasses up his nose. “I have no frikkin’ clue,” he grunted.
It was then that he noticed the linoleum and cinder-black dayroom was empty. Continue reading
Sunrise Flash
He stands on the bank where forest parts to sunrise on the rich strip of green, and lowers his muzzle to feed. Thick grass pops between his rotating jaws, snapping as he tears into clumps of equally satisfying roots.
Valley of the Trolls 