Daniel Lestrud
Bio
Stories (15/0)
Time to Download an App
The clock still read 5:45, I hadn’t gone anywhere. Dawn had just begun to burn through the night sky and evaporate the morning mist and melt the frosty grass. Ghostly fingers from the tree branches were disappearing and pulling back from their grasp of the night. The branch's grip was fading as fast as the sun rose.
By Daniel Lestrudabout a year ago in Families
Grandma
Grandma are you here Tell me a story today About yesterday
By Daniel Lestrudabout a year ago in Poets
Story Time
Remember the book Time this has gone by before Read me a story
By Daniel Lestrudabout a year ago in Poets
Victrola
Do I Hear Music Rattle me a rhythm sound Play me a record
By Daniel Lestrudabout a year ago in Poets
Photos
Memories lost mind Remember me not today Photobook on shelf
By Daniel Lestrudabout a year ago in Poets
Death at a Bend of a River
The smoke coiled out of the colt revolvers barrel and seeped out of the cracks along the edge of the cylinder and one round had been emptied from its chamber. Darryl looked down at her dead body, crumpled on the dirt, her red dress with printed sunflowers, stained with crimson that tinted the petals of the flower print. The cotton fibers drew the blood into its fibers, darkening the red fabric more, bleeding into the yellow pedals. Her fingers had dug into the dirt as she fell to the ground and her fingernails were caked in dirt with her palms up laying next to her. When she had heaved out her last breath after huffing for air her chest collapsed for the last time. Her eyes, blue eyes, went black. Dilated pupils stared straight up into the trees, watching the birds land on branches after they had been scared off by the gunshot.
By Daniel Lestrud2 years ago in Criminal
When saying "I love you" doesn't express how you feel
She could feel the chocolate run over her cut lip and down her chin, like a thin sheet of blood oozing out her mouth as she puckered her lips and then abruptly smacked them open for another bite. She shoveled the loaded fork of cake into her mouth. She almost swallowed the fork as she mashed down on the pasty but pulled it out of her tight lips, cleaning every tine as she sucked off the chocolate with a deep inhale. She pushed down through the slice of cake on her plate again making sure to get a fork full of cake, icing and chocolate syrup that was glazed over a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and raised it to her mouth again. The base of her fork was waxed in red lipstick that began at the end of the tines, from several shovelings of dessert. She wasn’t even talking anymore, she had become so enamored by her desert that all she could do was only open her eyes to look for her plate each time she was done with the previous bite.
By Daniel Lestrud3 years ago in Humans
Not all finds are in the barn
Charley could feel his hand brush against his right thigh as he walked across the kitchen, grabbed the keys off the hook with his left hand and dropped them in his coat pocket. He pushed on the left-hand glove by sliding his hand into it on the counter and then shoving it under his right armpit. With the same motion and step forward he then pushed down on the door handle and pushed the screen door open with his left shoulder. The back steps creaked as they got crushed under the weight of his work boots stomping down them and transitioned into a saunter-ly gallop towards the old red barn behind the house.
By Daniel Lestrud3 years ago in Fiction
Eight minutes and Twenty Seconds
There had been no warning that the light was going to go out. In all the sci-fi doomsday movies they know it's going to happen, or at least know something bad is about to happen. An Earthquake, eclipse, or the scientist warning the United Nations that imminent doom is pending. Nothing like that, it was just like someone flicked the switch and “click” it was late twilight. The moon disappeared from the sky even though we think it was traveling along with us in our wake. Without the sun's light, we also lost its gravity, and we were now flung out into space at sixty-seven thousand miles per hour into the galaxy. The milky way was stretched out alongside us now in a permanent swatch of splattered starlight. Jackson Pollock had just taken one long draw of starlight paint and splattered it across the midnight sky, and most was splattered in a straight line but many splashes were going what would be north and south on his black canvas.
By Daniel Lestrud3 years ago in Fiction