I write to take the journey, to discover things about the character and/or myself. Join me.
In her attic bedroom Mara Murray, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. Behind the trees clouds scudded across the sky. At random moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraith-like shadows that raced along the ground.
By Eron Kaye5 years ago in Horror
I loved that boy with his sea-green eyes his fiery red hair as wild as his laugh and his fox grin when mischief tapped his shoulder
By Eron Kaye5 years ago in Poets
Curled on arthritic knees, shoulders wrapped in her favorite green cardigan, worn red cultivator held loose in three fingers
The scalpel was invisible a ghost in your hand while you kissed me it slipped between my ribs when you tickled me
Mother's Day She had mother's eyes, a beautiful azure flecked with silver. You could imagine a summer sky, birds flitting through the air when she smiled.
By Eron Kaye5 years ago in Families
I never expected Andre to call, never mind anything else. When I met him, he seemed aloof, like the world was beneath him and he interacted with us only because he had to. Our brief chats at work in the library about books and movies left me thinking he found people, myself, boring. I had no idea.
