Nora T. Browne
Bio
I'm a lost Generation X'er with an English degree, trying to figure out how to exist and interact in a cultural revolution through my stories...
Stories (2)
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The Bluebells
Doctor Morin watered her Bluebells that grew outside of her Green House she called Cornamona. The aspiring Scientist wondered what her Grandfather, Packy, would have thought of her career. Sarah’s imaginative grandfather had seeded in the Agronomist the deep affection for the Earth and all that is produced. The summers of her childhood on the small farm in Cornamona, Galway, with hills of lush green, that would spread to where it met the Irish sea and sky, the edges of the land gently decorated with Irish Bluebells. "You see these bluebells here, Sarah. They've grown on this land for centuries…warning us of any evils lurking about. When you see them blowing back and forth, and there is no breeze…just know the Fae are warning you to keep you safe….” Sarah could still feel his breath close to her ear as if told her the secret of the Bluebells. Her chest clenched up as she fought back the pressure in the back of her eyes. Lost in her thoughts, the Doctor became aware of a crashing noise inside the greenhouse, “You're on borrowed time," she teased at the bluebells as she approached the entry to Cornamona.
By Nora T. Browne5 years ago in Futurism
