Charles T. Morris
Bio
Southerner, currently residing in Nashville.
Husband of a lovely wife.
Father and Grandfather of lovely girls.
A need to be heard pushes me into these places.
Stories (4/0)
Wide-Eyed
Startled at the sudden commotion Owen grabbed for the lamp, raising it up high to better see the intruder. Was that an owl up there that had startled him so? Just a damned old barn owl? As the creatures will, it had found a high, unnoticed hole where time, weather, and woodpeckers had worn away at the rough-board siding. The nosy thing had rustled it’s feathers through the tiny opening and then secreted itself away into the highest, deepest-dark rafters. Only the gleaming eyes of it were left to see, the rest having faded magically into the shadows. The dimness of the lantern's light reflected back down from those eyes sluggishly, as distant light reflects from across the heavy, black water of a stagnant pond. His hand trembling, Owen re-hung the lantern on the exposed end of a 2x4 joist and set back to work, trying his best to still his racing heart, and to ignore the owl's unsolicited intrusion.
By Charles T. Morris2 years ago in Fiction
A Day on the Water
Doc Bell said it was time, but Reb's eyes spoke to me as well. "Not yet," they said. I bent to help him to his feet. I shrugged at the Doc, as though to say, "We'll be back." It was one of those times when it is easy to trust your instinct, but difficult to trust your voice.
By Charles T. Morris2 years ago in Petlife
Foremost, a Man
The Reverend Gregory Thompson is awake. As he does every night the Reverend stares through the encapsulating blackness without acknowledging it's presence around him. Instead, he peers through it with a tunnel-like vision, gazing beyond it to where a singular, technicolor memory plays on it's other side, a memory that shines beacon-like, carrying him back 40 years, back to the day when it became obvious to him that his wants and desires must be stashed away in the deepest depths of his mind lest they derail it all; his future, his mission, his eternity. Those wants and desires had been hidden away his entire life, it should be noted, but for one April afternoon; that one indelible, and undeniable, Sunday in Miami.
By Charles T. Morris2 years ago in Fiction
Study Hard
Once thrust into the unfamiliar arena he waited motionless, allowing her heavily shadowed eyes the time they needed to take him in, even as his own took her in. They locked-in, her eyes did, gazing with the alertness a bored house-cat gives to a new rubber mouse, or to any other diversion, no matter how slight. At the same time, his were noticing that her lips were the same dark, grotesque shade of purple as her eyes, and her hair too, but for the bright pink streak fanning out through her bangs.
By Charles T. Morris3 years ago in Fiction
