Oasis_Never_Just a Miracle_End of War
Catalog Guide:
Oasis
An oasis. That’s what Fikri needed. The lightly-laden pony beneath him was flagging, having dropped from it’s all out gallop to the slower canter hours ago, and to a trot minutes ago. Without water, Fikri knew that the horse could simply collapse beneath him, and then he would be stranded in the middle of the largest desert in Ashal. The sun beat down on the two lone figures, both of them knowing that it was the hottest part of the day, the sun high above, its heat hitting the sand and seeming to make the air sizzle around them.It was almost never worth it to travel during this time of day ac...
Never
NEVERThe sun on the calm water and laid back conversation float nowhere. Need to go nowhere. Content with itself, it spreads with ease like a thick layer of syrup over pancakes making them savory and sweet. Kayaking up under cascading walls of water vines, I arrive at a long abandoned beaver lodge so overgrown that only a practiced eye could discern it. The growth is so impenetrable and the stream path so narrow that I’m unable to turn the kayak around, and begin to paddle backwards but am stymied by islands of knotted lily roots. Water lily roots hump in black fists the size of hippo feet a m...
Just a Miracle
‘MOM I have to submit a story for my school. Should I do it?’ Gortimer called out from the living room, leaning towards the table.‘Yes Son, you should and I can help you in it.’www.onedoor.cc Mrs. Johnson replied back, scrubbing the last plate left out in the sink, exhaling the load of her work. She was a Surgeon and a perfect housewife. Still, her bad at having a dependent son like Gortimer. Gortimer’s father “Mr. Johnson”, who was a Teacher, was puzzling the pile of papers in front of him.Gortimer was busy choosing the characters for his story, which was difficult for him. ‘Momma please help me out! I don...
End of War
My mother used to sing when she cooked. Her gentle voice would fill our home as she swayed to the song. Her food was always terrible, but I’d eat a thousand more of her meals just to hear her again. She would smile as she set the plates down, brush the hair out of my eyes and sit opposite me. I longed for her singing in this silence, the cold air pushed through the trees surrounding us, the grass I sat on was damp from the rain the night before, I laid my head back against the bark of the tree I lent against and began to hum, desperate to create a sound, anything to drown out the quiet. “Wou...