Progress edwin
Stories (2/0)
Threads of the hearts
The air crackled with the metallic tang of tension. Elena, seasoned war correspondent with hair the color of desert dust and eyes that mirrored the steely grey of artillery smoke, hunched over her laptop in the ramshackle cafe. Bullets whined like impatient bees on the wind outside, punctuating the rhythmic clatter of the baker's rolling pin against the wooden counter.
By Progress edwin5 months ago in Fiction
Loss and grief
The sun beat down like a blacksmith's hammer, forging the world into a shimmering inferno. Dust devils danced like drunken dervishes across the parched field, whispering of a summer gone cruel. Maya, with the dust painting her fur the color of despair, searched with frantic eyes. Where was he? Her Jasper, her shadow, her sunbeam – a blur of golden fur against the endless canvas of brown.
By Progress edwin5 months ago in Journal