Achievements (14)
Stories (69)
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feuille-morte
slow rot drifts down, as memories of summer fade lurid wistfulness ~~~ I thought the ghastly history of the word "lurid" makes it a fitting adjective for this haiku and also a great word for describing the color of the dying leaves. The word comes from the Latin 'luridus', which was used in the 17th century to describe the pale yellowish color of diseased or bruised skin.
By Imola Tóth4 months ago in Poets
Ephemeral
crimson wonderland laced with gold and emerald— just for an instant. ~~ 🍂 I got some time off in the forest at work because the forester was 2 hours late. So I sat down under an oak tree and wrote at least a dozen of haikus for this challenge. I finally got myself a waterproof notebook, so I can write down my ideas.
By Imola Tóth4 months ago in Poets
The Borrowed Face. Top Story - August 2025.
Elisabetta was woken by shivers that ran up and down her spine. She found herself lying on the dew covered, lush grass. Her head was pulsing with pain. She must have hit it — why else would she hear music shimmering like bells? She was still in the forest.
By Imola Tóth5 months ago in Fiction
The Storm That Never Came
We arrived at the lake of Châtrices after half a day’s hike. I let my backpack fall onto the picnic table with a thud. It felt so heavy like I was carrying rocks all day. I kicked off my shoes, and wiggled my toes until life returned into them.
By Imola Tóth5 months ago in Fiction
