Sydney Lee Jones
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Stories (15)
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Dumb Girl
Crisp moonlight cascaded down, blanketed brightly against the back of the black curtains of a corner apartment on a busy corner street. Searching for a way in, it had work to do here. Looking to penetrate the dome of artificial light Caroline tucked herself inside of. It longed to touch her, in its fullness, to rock her gently to sleep. Instead, she pulled her curtains taught. Not a sliver would find its way into her life. She knew to keep out the sounds and sights of distraction. Tuck herself away from the omnipresent beauty life offered her. Stifle the inspiration that mulled in her spirit, waiting to emerge. Brought on by small things, like a now pregnant moon. A bundle of baby stars. Ideas bigger than the galaxies.
By Sydney Lee Jones6 months ago in Fiction
Absence of Light
I remember the first time I met my father. Truly met him and saw him as a human being of flesh and soul. It was in the back of a shadowy bar, where the air tinged with cigarettes and I always kept my mouth shut as tight and as long as possible. He played guitar, or maybe he sang the blues. He kissed my mother on the outside of her lips while she wore mostly black clothes with knee high boots, put streaks of color in her hair. Said he had a show somewhere down the road, said see ya later Huckleberry even though I was a girl and my name was Finn.
By Sydney Lee Jones4 years ago in Families
A Hymn. Top Story - April 2022.
I had always been afraid of birds. The way they screech into the sharp sky, display their talons like trophies, unfurl their wings and fly. How they move gently through the air as a simple breeze, but crack harshly against the earth each time they land. At 21, I spent most of my time alone in my dense apartment uptown, near the trees. I reveled in the space between me and others, the freedom of the forest. Fell in love with talking to myself and hearing only the rustle of branches as a reply. The fall proved to be the best time of the year. When the birds flew south and the bugs holed up from the cold. I wore sweaters to class in the morning, changed to a t-shirt by noon. I loved autumn, the soft in between of two extremes. I enjoyed each season as much as possible, each providing their own sense of beauty, but fall held its place in my heart. When winter hit and it snowed too hard, I pulled the covers tight and bundled myself away from the cold, refusing to accept it. Although friends and family questioned me, I refused to explain what the snow did to me. The way it took pieces of me each time, how most years I never got them back.
By Sydney Lee Jones4 years ago in Earth
A Hymn
I had always been afraid of birds. The way they screech into the sharp sky, display their talons like trophies, unfurl their wings and fly. How they move gently through the air as a simple breeze, but crack harshly against the earth each time they land. At 21, I spent most of my time alone in my dense apartment uptown, near the trees. I reveled in the space between me and others, the freedom of the forest. Fell in love with talking to myself and hearing only the rustle of branches as a reply. The fall proved to be the best time of the year. When the birds flew south and the bugs holed up from the cold. I wore sweaters to class in the morning, changed to a t-shirt by noon. I loved autumn, the soft in between of two extremes. I enjoyed each season as much as possible, each providing their own sense of beauty, but fall held its place in my heart. When winter hit and it snowed too hard, I pulled the covers tight and bundled myself away from the cold, refusing to accept it. Although friends and family questioned me, I refused to explain what the snow did to me. The way it took pieces of me each time, how most years I never got them back.
By Sydney Lee Jones4 years ago in Fiction
Whats in a Name?
In the midst of a blustering October, I felt myself drawn to the website of the local animal shelter. Typically, I can’t bear to scroll through without the intent to adopt. But this particular day something pulled at me to visit the website. I jumped online and found myself on the adoptable cats page. Although I already had my wonderful tom cat, Cricket, a voice inside whispered that I needed something more. I scrolled through the many adoptable pets that tugged at my heart strings until I landed upon an old and grey cat. “Sir Meows a Lot” it said. His big glowing eyes looked deep into mine and I knew I was hooked.
By Sydney Lee Jones4 years ago in Petlife
The Retiree
I stepped out of my jeep and headed toward the front door of my parents home. With each step, I listened for the tippy tap of toenails on tile waiting eagerly inside, but they never came. I jumped up the porch steps, and once I finally turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, he stood there, big dark eyes looking up at me. Tail beating against the banister behind, the embodiment of my heart within the walls of my own chest. Immediately, I let everything fall from my grip, scattered it across the floor. I cared only about scooping his slobbery sweet cheeks into my hands, kissing his shiny black nose while he frantically licked my chin, cheeks, neck, as giggles poured out of me. The snow from my boots melted beneath my feet as we danced across the hardwood, content.
By Sydney Lee Jones4 years ago in Petlife
