nathanael j
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Stories (15)
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A Painted Bird
Somewhere between Serdar and Lorgine, the foothills finally gave out to plains and the horizon opened into an arcing sky. The passenger’s demeanour changed also. Perhaps she could sense something new. We had been driving since dawn and now I had to lower the visor as we travelled westward into the sinking sun. The mountains were behind us, and the passenger – I don’t remember her name or whether she even told me it - began to relax. When she’d first got in the car I guess she felt obliged to make small talk, but that had dwindled to a companionable silence and it had been a long while since a word had passed between us. The expansive surroundings seemed to loosen her tongue though and she started straight into a story. She spoke quietly, but deliberately and with few pauses, as though she had spent the entire journey working it out in her mind.
By nathanael j4 years ago in Fiction
Wading Out To A Vessel
That night, studying the dark waters of the lake that displayed only stars and the path to a crooked moon, I felt an emptiness that seemed to stem from the infinity of sky above, mirrored on the serene waters. I’d hoped they’d have a calming effect on me, but my head was in turmoil. A fool’s errand. That was the phrase that arrived in my mind. It was one my mother had used a lot, before she’d left.
By nathanael j4 years ago in Fiction
