Lori Oliver
Bio
I prefer to write funny stuff but my sense of humor is derived from having grown up in the ‘60’s. Now that I’m in my sixties I find it causes friction. So fiction it is.
Stories (2)
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Best to Forget
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. And every night the ring of eleven stood in a circle and sang their chorus. Their harmonies held as fine a pitch as a tabernacle choir. Without a conductor, or the need for one, their combined voices blended from a rich harmonic chorus down to a single-note solo and back to harmonies again. Then they would smile at each other and return to their homes on Maple Street, walking purposefully, peacefully in the purple night. No goodbyes. No “see you tomorrow night” or “catch ya later.” Silence—actually more like a silent wake. A trail of audible radiance no human having heard it once would ever, could ever, forget.
By Lori Oliver3 years ago in Earth
