Lay like a worn rug
Cover the world in beauty
Waiting for Winter
About the Creator
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More stories from Rebecca Lavin and writers in Poets and other communities.
Rolling Stock
Jostled, I was jostled awake. I was very groggy and my mouth tasted like well,... crap. How long have I been asleep and where am I? The movement of my body led me to believe I was on a train. I have been on many a train, so I recognized it, the slow rocking movement like a mother rocking her baby. I opened my eyes and saw I was in a sleeper car. I looked out of the window, but could not tell from the rolling landscape where we were, and how did I even get here? I have no memory of that, what day it is for that matter. I stood up and checked my pockets for a ticket, what did I do with my ticket? How do you get on a train without a ticket? I didn't have my wallet, which seems to have disappeared as well. I went to the door and opened it, looked left and then right, the corridor was empty. I slipped back in "my" room and shut the door. I sat back down and let out a long breath, ran my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out what I should do next. I felt a painful lump on the back of my head, and I thought this is why I can't remember.
By Rebecca Lavin3 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Ridge Stalker
Tom had left the Ford down the way, its spark plugs finally exhausted and no mechanics for a dozen miles back through the foothills to Strossburg. No matter, he had worn his boots—almost as if he planned for this to happen. The puzzle he sought to solve emanated from the woods clinging to the slopes above; the valley behind held no mysteries.
By Stephen A. Roddewig5 days ago in Fiction
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