Jonathan Hirschberg
Stories (4)
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Wine and Free Spirits
I can't escape it. Whenever I look for red wine, I see her face. Every time I look at its deep crimson hue, I remember her dark hair, red lipstick, nails, and the scent of her perfume. Her graceful walk, breathtaking smile, and intense dark eyes were imprinted in my mind's eye. The glasses I drink remind me of her shape. The fragrance takes me back to that one night in Carla's Vineyard when I laid eyes upon her for the first time and heard the soft sweetness of her voice. It was a simpler time when we could have a romantic night out with just the two of us, fine dining, and a bottle of Merlot.
By Jonathan Hirschberg5 years ago in Humans
The Owl Menace
It was a brisk, cold autumn sunset in the small New England town of West Chesterford, Massachusetts when my wife and I walked down the street toward a local coffee shop. We looked around at the many colorful reds, oranges, and yellows that filled the sky from the many trees around us whose leaves had changed colors and revealed their full splendor. Many people in the coffee shop sat around talking excitedly and sipping hot cocoa. But then we turned our heads to the right and saw something unsettling.
By Jonathan Hirschberg5 years ago in Horror
