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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2021
The boy was a child of the wildness that surrounded him. He was born of the mountains that ringed his lofty alpine valley, formed by the rapids that rushed from their snow capped peaks, rocked to sleep by the winds that howled through the narrow chutes, and awakened by the thunderclaps that echoed off the craggy stone. He was the vigorous, confident wildness that drove the elk from the woods each morning, their antlers glinting in the sun. He was the fresh, gentle wildness of the elderflower and columbine in spring bloom, rendering the va...
She fought against the pull toward consciousness, preferring to bask in the vague happiness that lived in the gauzy space between wakefulness and dreams. She held the glow, which was already slipping away, for as long as she could before succumbing, inevitably, to the pull of the world beyond her own mind. Gray, she thought as her eyes fluttered open. It was always the first thing she noticed. It was one of the only things to notice really, the grayness. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, her clothes, all of it the same lifeless ...
I’m surrounded by his things. That’s what he’s left behind, things. Well, things and me, I suppose. There weren’t a lot of people at the service. Some neighbors, a couple of old friends, a smattering of relatives. Small but respectable. At least that’s what I told myself when the last of the guests arrived. It wasn’t at all like when Mom died, when the church was packed, standing room only. She had the advantage of dying young, young enough that the sheer tragedy of it compelled people, her people, to converge in th...
I saw a tree and thought of you, or rather, thought of the way you see trees. I remembered when we walked through the Ramble in Central Park, a wild place in the center of a place wilder still, resplendent and emerald in the early summer sun. You stopped suddenly when you saw it. I remember how you cocked your head in appreciation, a tendril of hair escaped from behind your ear. You brushed it back with an unconscious ha...
NYC based. Writing in the margins. Twitter: @shane_ransom
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