Lark Hanshan
Bio
A quiet West Coast observer. Writing a sentence onto a blank page and letting what comes next do what it must.
Achievements (7)
Stories (58)
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Sunrise
Comfort once was walking behind as his shadow, one his grandparents would remark upon when absent It was sitting in the passenger seat of a blue Ford Focus in silence on a Sunday night as rain streaked across the windows, the pit in my stomach of course attributable to love for he would only be irritated he had to drive me home because he cared that I worked towards my license
By Lark Hanshan3 years ago in Poets
Doric
He wants to ask them when their big day is. The small lady leans into the side of her love like fronds of a fern curling together. Their fingers brush as they walk, a familial mark of being and belonging, the kind that comes from quiet chatter over late nights and has been founded over arguments so large and so small that they could mean the world or not at all.
By Lark Hanshan3 years ago in Fiction
Lemon and Sugar
Nobody saw Hester when she sprang to her feet at the kitchen table. This on a Sunday in July when the boughs of the orchard hung heavy. Church had come and gone and she was ruminating on the reverend’s words, as ever concerned she would never understand them.
By Lark Hanshan3 years ago in Fiction
