Judah LoVato
Bio
My collection of sometimes decent writing
Which I've left "there" for seekers to seek
Though I lack the grandeur of that Pirate King
Perhaps these pebbles can be a light
In this life, this laughing tale
Stories (106)
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Chocolate Atole
The wind was roaring, and the snow was blowing white vortices against the pitch black. We lived about 30 miles East of Buffalo, Wyoming, but that winter night it felt like an arctic outpost. I was standing just inside the door of the front porch, and wishing I had had the sense to get the coal while there was at least some light outside.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in Feast
A Man Called Ove
Ove is ready to die. Unfortunately, a new neighbor disturbs his death and forces him to live (and where’d the cat come from?). Humorous and heartfelt, A Man Called Ove is an honest look at the joy and sorrow of living told through the life of one cranky old man.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in Critique
The Color of the Wheat Fields . Runner-Up in Book Club Challenge. Top Story - August 2023.
Whenever I see a wheat field, I think of a little prince with golden hair. I admit he’s a silly person to think about since I’ve never met him myself, but that is the power of a good story. The story is called “The Little Prince,” which was published in 1944 by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in BookClub
If It’s Mine
My dad had a lot of stories. He told us about Brujos and Bultos*; of a demon dog and the Headless Horseman; and of wild adventures he had with his brothers we could hardly believe. But some precious few were less fantastical, just the simple experiences of growing up. One such story he told was when he and his Abuelo, his grandfather, were out hunting.
By Judah LoVato3 years ago in Men
Metamorphosis
The egg rests in the river feeling safe, but then, “oh! It’s too cramped,” She emerges. She’s surrounded by ugly creatures, “Is this what I am?” She wonders, and, by reflex, catches a passing larva. “Ah,” she thinks, “I see. But I am strong.” She lives and hunts, so comfortable. But one night she thinks, “I feel so cramped,” She climbs up a reed into the air. “It’s hard to breathe,” she thinks, “It hurts! And yet,” She gasps and struggles- hours pass. She sees her reflection, “Ah,” she thinks, “I see. I am beautiful, fully-formed…” she flew, “and free!”
By Judah LoVato3 years ago in Fiction
