Going Home

500 words “It’s raining now.”   She whispered to the empty room. She listened, as the rain fell against the glass of the hospital window. Smiling memories of playing, dancing and walking in the rain, flooded her thoughts, her eyes closed against the starkness of her room. The machines clicked and beeped quietly around her but… Read More Going Home


Old pens and inky sprays. Weathered tips dance bout the days. Mental spews and fractal thoughts, Tie up the ends with spidery knots. Words emerge, a noun, a phrase, Sentences flow like grasshoppers graze. Paragraphs roll over mountainous cascades. So this is the way stories are laid.