A Day in the Park
Enjoy the small moments in life.
She watched him swinging, back and forward; a gentle rhythm with a metronomic squeak, discordant kicks occasionally propelling him higher. She smiled to herself, enjoying the perfect moment, and sipped her coffee. Too often people rushed things, but these moments would not be forever, they should be savoured, she felt. She would tuck this memory away to visit on cold nights.
The light dappled her features, through the leaves, as she tilted her head back to scrutinize him. His face was already turning purple from the noose.
“I told you I’d get you, for what you did to her.”
About the Creator
Michael Darvall
Quietly getting on with life and hopefully writing something worth reading occasionally.
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More stories from Michael Darvall and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Walking Man - 1
Every night, at midnight, the purple clouds come out to dance with the blushing sky… for those who have eyes to see them. You can tell who they are, if you’re in the know, they tend to stand out. Ever been in a crowd – say out on the town on a Friday night, or at a party – and you see those odd people who seem to have just… stopped; not talking, not dancing, maybe not moving at all. Often they’re in the crowd but somehow not of the crowd, there’s space around them in the crush, or they’re in that odd corner that no-one else likes to stand in. There’s a fair chance they can See. People usually feel uncomfortable with them, their personal space seems a bit bigger and it can make talking with them… awkward.
By Michael Darvallabout a year ago in Fiction
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
Fyra and Sword
Author's note: This follows Heart of Steel Lor'kan thrust his blade forward with such speed and precision Naythan barely whipped his blade to the side to dash it to one side. Lor'kan used the momentum to bring his sword around his head in a slash right and left, right, left, right left battering Naythan as he blocked frantically backing up as he did so. He was losing too much ground too fast. Trying to regain the initiative, Naythan caught Lor'kan's last cut, lifted his elbow to angle the point of his blade towards Lor'kan's face and thrust forward, keeping his blade clashed with Lor'kan to protect himself even as he attacked. It worked, Lor'kan's assault pattern was broken and he backed up a step to avoid Naythan's point and gain distance from him, giving Naythan crucial seconds to regain his composure and go on the offensive.
By Tomos Jacksonabout 11 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
It started so almost poetic. And then... unexpected turn of events..