Cynthia Chape

Joined January 2021

0 stories

Bio

Gen-Xer happily dabbling in the arts

Stories (9/0)

Super Moon in Aries
I dream nights like these, Where the wind shifts and pivots dancing trees to chattering paper laughter- limbs thrown akimbo,
By Cynthia Chape3 months ago in Poets
The Gospel of Fern
It was coming, and he was trying to run on legs that didn't work right. They wobbled fatly and he lurched , careening across the uneven ground as if he were ten tankards in the ale. Everything in the forest was impossibly large, trees looming to dizzying heights with roots as thick as his unsteady legs. He stumbled over a ropey knot of them and, arms pinwheeling, fell hard.
By Cynthia Chape4 months ago in Fiction
Harbinger
I remember color. The echoes of Then fill in hues my eyes no longer record. -the bosc pear undertones on the wall behind the bed
By Cynthia Chapeabout a year ago in Fiction
All Roads
The First Drum sings, from the wet bone hollow, between breath and flesh. This red rhythm we know, buried in our skin,
By Cynthia Chapeabout a year ago in Poets
R.O.Y-G-B.I.V
Crimson flash on winter pearled sky Or the deep kiss planted on a blackbird's wing Red teachings of stepping lightly into cold winds
By Cynthia Chape2 years ago in Poets
Mise en Place
If you've never worked in the restaurant industry, walking into a commercial kitchen during a busy dinner rush is like hitting a wall of sensory overload . Overwhelming smells, sounds, and sights are all layered and woven together in a complex dance of motion and coded restaurant communications.
By Cynthia Chape2 years ago in Motivation
Defining
If she throws her Self high to the storm, roots willfully tearing, the sharp snap-crackle of toppled expectations staccato her dissent,
By Cynthia Chape2 years ago in Poets
If Wishes Were Horses
I would stand Under the purple weight of twilight, a million winking stars, applauding the moon's silvery-silent arrival.
By Cynthia Chape2 years ago in Poets
The Key
Really, Harold deserves most of the credit. I was too immersed in following the wind’s fickle path through the cotton woods-a flirtatious dance through the oval leaves. Closing my eyes, their graceful partnership rustled, a soft surf of air, sky, and earth.
By Cynthia Chape2 years ago in Motivation