MeanderingPoet's profile

We were only children then, Cassandra and me. At seventeen I had not yet known grief, and thus was a man only in stature, and she was only a girl. In the summer we would run, down the hills and towards the large lake in the east end of town. Our pleasure sprang from our breathless pursuit of something we couldn't name, the rolling hills of greenery and the occasional wild dandelion. When we reached the shore we would collapse in each other's arms, laughing at the geese that shared our hideawa...

Solemn and faceless they bore her coffin in from the cold, listless morning. It was early yet, and the chapel had not yet filled; but I knew that before long there wouldn’t even be room left to stand. The pallbearers paused with the silence of ritual, and placed their burden at the front of the church. Candlelight caught the luster of the polished mahogany; just as well it should shine being a closed casket service. The air was stifling with the sickly scent of flora. One could almost forget ...

---I--- To her, the most recent infidelity held a faint taste of pears. Or perhaps the act reminded her of a pear's texture, the soft grains that tasted vaguely sweet, and remained as sticky particles in the crevices between her teeth. With the thought she licked her lips. It wasn't the first time, nor the last she reasonably assumed, that she would stray from the bed sheets of monogamy; but the first where it meant something ominous. For it was the first time she truly attempted to stay true...

A while and a time ago, in the ocean waters south of Europe there was a lone lifeboat tossed amongst the waves. The boat carried the only survivor of a devastating naval attack, a sailor by passion who, by luck, became an officer in the current war. Fortunately, his situation was not strictly dire. The lifeboat was meant for dozens of occupants, so there were plenty of rations, a filtration device for water, and the sailor had smuggled an armful of books out of the maelstrom. He was afloat, w...