Silver Expanse

A great silver expanse

Like the sky at dusk,

But upon the group outstretched


Lies silvery, shimmering,

Sparkling, rippling,

Shining and beaming, those waters


A soft, silky veil

Covering darkness beneath—

Completely concealed at the hour

Silvery Lake





But as the sun slips away,

Taking with her gold rays,

Murky waters beneath are revealed.


Splashing, slipping,

Rippling, swirling,

Down, down, deeper and deeper
Silvery Lake at Dusk


Autumn Hues and Crackling Fires

The sun’s too hot

The air, too cold

The leaves prepare for snow


An opened window

A bustling breeze

Oh where I’d choose to go


Forget the books

Just leave the class

These things I already know


I’d roam the fields

Of crisp gold grain

Or lay by trees below


Ducking under

Towering waves

The sand between my toes


But back to books

Lectures and notes

I hate to leave this dream


On looking out

The foggy panes

I sigh with great envy


The scurrying squirrels

The sluggish bears

All hide away ’til spring


And in me the

Reluctance grows

I wish I could do the same


But I hate to think

Of the joys I’d miss

Though escape from school’s my dream


The autumn hues

Take my breath away

Hot cocoa cheers my soul


Crackling fires

And toasted s’mores

Would I really give up this?

Shattered Hope

Like a beautiful clinging vine trust had spread between their hearts. Its roots held tight. It grew deeper every day.

Yet Tessa wanted to stint its growth. He didn’t know her past. She felt as though she’d deceived him. Betrayed him. Tricked him into loving someone he didn’t really know. Guilt was a burden that weighed her down every day. Dawn brought no new page—fresh, clean, white. But if she uprooted the vine—broke his trust—everything would fade away. Their love. Her hope. Her life.

But concealing it any longer would only pain her more. He saw her in a light so much different than it should be. She would never feel innocent and pure. Never worthy of being loved. Yet all she needed was someone to hold her close and tell her she could be forgiven. That she was forgiven. And could forgive herself. She wanted Tristan to be that person.

Glossy eyes set in a weary face glared back at her in the mirror the next morning. Dark clouds concealed the sun and promised a heavy rain. Was this God’s way of telling her how wretched she was? How unworthy of forgiveness? Unworthy of even hope? But Tristan. Her small faith in him flickered ever so softly inside her.

Yet hours later reversed her faith in him. Her hope. It had been shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. Guilt flooded her body and she gasped for breath as she ran, seeking to empty the pent up emotions. She would never forget that rejection. His facial expression. The way he’d avoided meeting her gaze, shifted his body away from her. She couldn’t forget those painful moments. She never would. Remembering them brought a fresh pain to her heart. A physical pain that cried out for release.

She was surrounded by towering tree trunks when she collapsed to the ground. All around her colorful arrays of dying leaves clung to their branches. They would all die eventually. Flitter from that height down to the bitter earth. Shrivel into crisp brown triangles, soon to be trampled and forgotten. She wanted to die to. To be forgotten. To forget.

Face buried in her arms, she cried, letting the troubled, angry tears free. She couldn’t live this life anymore. No one could forgive her. And she couldn’t forgive herself.

The tears slowly subsided, leaving her eyes a darker, more melancholy brown than before. Numbness filled her; yet the sound of bubbling water drew her mute and careless attention. She turned her head and watched the rushing ripples for several seconds. The water, flowing over the rocks, pulling twigs downstream, softening pebbles, nourishing moss. How…peaceful. As she rose to her feet, nearing the bank, a calming, restful thought consumed her mind. The pain could end. That rejection. It wouldn’t exist anymore. Not another day would be filled with grief and regret. The illusion consumed her mind. Like a corrupt, black smoke it swept her away in misery. She bent to the water’s edge, not bothering to take her shoes off. That wouldn’t matter. Several more steps and Tessa stood chest deep. The water tugged at every layer of her dress, weighing her down. She closed her eyes and let the sound of the river intoxicate her. She exhaled deeply, letting the air pass over her lips slowly. She let the soothing waters call her in—deeper, much deeper—until she was spiraling in darkness, eyes closed, body motionless. Her head was starting to ache, but there was no grief. No noise. It would all end soon. Soon… Every hope had been shattered. But now she was almost complete. Fitting the last piece of her life’s puzzle in place.

For a second she wanted to defy the piece. To reject it. To create a new one. But no. There was no other way. Her head was pounding. Her whole body going limp. There was no other way.

The illusion, the smoke of her mind, the waters—they all claimed her. They stole her body into the water’s depths. As she lay against cold, smooth rocks, the water caressed her face and hands, wondering with great curiosity at the potential of the life, at the beauty of that precious face. And all the while pitying the confusion wrapped up in the soul. The puzzle had been destroyed, not completed. There was another way.

Crystal Ocean

I’m not sure if this makes sense to anyone else…my mother had no idea what I was trying to say.

How I wonder what happens behind those closed eyes,
Where the shimmering blue meets the shade.
Doth fire consume the blue crystal ocean,
Or is bright joyous sunlight there made?
Doth the waves crash upon the pale beach beneath,
Or doth water race up to the sun?
Doth envy convert the deep blue depths green,
Or doth happiness spill over and run?
But none knows what happens behind those closed eyes,
Where the shimmering blue meets the shade.
For concealed in the shadows lies the truth o’ the weather
The weather we’ll not ever know.

closed eyes

Scribbler Award

ScribblerHello! So I was nominated by Grace for this award and figured I’d keep it going. I am to share a writing tip and/or a few of my favorite writing blogs (which will then, in turn, pass the award along). Here goes!

My “tip” doesn’t really qualify as such, but it was such a memorable thing my AP English teacher said last year that I thought I’d share the gist of it. >>Every sentence you write is unique; no one has ever written, or will ever write, what you just have.<<

As for the blogs, a few of my favorites (that you *definitely* should follow!) are:

Sarah Opst’s Gossamer in Spring

Gabriel Boorse’s AsOthersWere

Caleb Julin’s The Mountaintop Musings of a Wandering Floridiot

Alright you three, it’s your turn!

Only Moments

Icy winds whipped through the barbed wire that towered above the flock of people. Jews. Pushed through the gate by stalky German soldiers, they huddled together on the cold November day, shivering uncontrollably. The air was dry and pierced their lungs. Little white puffs billowed into the sky between blue lips. This was the first step towards imprisonment. In this place, void of compassion, two men—bundled warmly in coats, scarves, and gloves and sitting behind a small table—would determine who would live and who would die.
“Men to the left, women to the right!” ordered an officer while others enforced the command.
Jaron and Kaila glanced at each other from across the space separating them. Fear and love burned in their eyes—it heated their bodies. Jaron did his best to stand firm, to comfort her with a reassuring look. He wanted to be strong for her right now. It’ll be okay, his eyes whispered. Despite his strong body and clenched jaw, he trembled in the wind; he couldn’t control it. Kaila’s frail figure was hunched over. She wrapped her arms around waist, pulling her dress tighter against her skin, clinging to any warmth her body, or the dress, would provide. Chestnut eyes shone glossy with tears and worry as dark strands of hair whipped the tight, dry skin on her face. She turned her head away from his hopeful eyes, not wanting him to see the fear and weakness within her.
But he already knew. And he was afraid. What if the ever present, looming death sentence claimed her life? “She’s so frail…”
The line started moving as the officers at the table eyed each person. His heart was beating faster now. At the shake of a head, men and women were either led to the huddle of survivors or guided to an open back truck and pushed inside. The man judging the women was stern and condemning. “Too weak,” he snarled under his breath, waving his hand so the guards would take the young girl in front of him away.
“No!” she screamed. “I can work, I can!” Ferocity and desperation shown clear in her young face, desperately pleading as they dragged her away.
Kaila could be next. She met his eyes, but then bowed her head. She was thinking the same thing. A tear dripped to the snow. How he longed to stroke her face. To wipe the warm, salty tears away and hold her. To protect her. Everything blurred. Anger and sorrow swirled together in his dark eyes.
“Step forward!” an exasperated officer shouted.
The man behind Jaron nudged him forward. Bowing his head as the officer looked him over, he concealed his hate. The man nodded and motioned to group of survivors. Jaron jointed the group but kept his eyes on Kaila. She stepped forward. The air in his lungs escaped through his open mouth. His temples pulsated. He was straining to hear the verdict. Live or die?
“No,” the officer muttered. “It’d be a wonder if her little arms could make bread” he chuckled, smirking at the other officers who quickly joined in jest.
At their hostile grasp, she shuddered and sobs became free. Tears flowed down her pale face. After the first step desperation ceased her tears. “Jaron,” she said, frantically searching the crowd for his face. Over and over she said it. “Jaron. Jaron!”
Her increasingly alarming cries brought him out of the foggy haze his mind and body had gone into. Fury at last delivered air to his lungs, strength to his muscles. He was immune to the bitter air and snow now. “Kaila!” Lunging forward, he escaped the officers grasp. “Kaila!” he shouted again. He was by her side in seconds, ripping her from the grasp of the officers.
He swept her up in an embrace. “I will never stop loving you,” he whispered as she cried. He knew this moment wouldn’t last. In those precious seconds he wiped the tears from her face and kissed her. As he pulled away to look at her face, sharp gunshots echoed through the bitter air. He winced, feeling the cold metal rip through his core. Her brow furrowed too, and she gasped in pain. Her legs collapsed beneath her and she hit the cold earth, blood spilling from her stomach and running onto the gravel. Jaron’s head started spinning, his mind couldn’t focus, and he landed on the ground beside her.
The life was quickly draining from his body. They locked eyes—both were glossy with tears of pain and sorrow. His eyes fluttered and Kaila closed hers, letting the tears flow freely. By the time she opened her eyes, his were closed—completely. His body was still. Her own breath was becoming laborious and her eyelids felt heavier with each passing second. “I’ll….see you…soon,” she breathed, painfully sucking in small breaths. She gently touched his face, stroking her fingers from his temple to his jaw, then resting her fingers upon his lips. He’d kissed her only moment ago. “I love you,” she exhaled; and the life slipped from her too.

Cries in the Dark

 “Yes…I’ll confirm it,” Victoria hesitantly answered, sighing between her words. She clutched the telephone with one hand and gripped the spiraling cord with the other.
“Don’t worry, Miss Tollan,” the nurse on the other end tried to comfort her. “We handle these procedures on a daily basis with hundreds of women just like you. And we send each one home in perfect condition. We’ll see you Thursday, okay?”
“Alright,” Victoria nodded her head, trying to reassure herself. “I’ll see you then.” As she hung up the phone, she dared to lay her hand—ever so gently—on her stomach; but she pulled it away. I have to do this. It isn’t a baby yet. The shimmering hope of marriage and a family with Reid after college sparkled in the distance. And this was a bump in the road. It had to be dealt with. Besides, she trusted him. Yet, heading towards the bathroom, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror. She turned to face herself, softly moving her hands across her womb. “It’s not a baby yet,” she forcefully whispered again. She brushed her teeth and flipped the lights off before crawling into bed—exhausted, but more mentally than physically. The war in her mind wouldn’t end. Her indecision introduced battle after battle. Thursday will come and go and everything will be fine. I just have to make it through. Hugging her pillow tightly, she closed her eyes.
Victoria gasped, awaking with a start. Her heart thumped against her chest, seeming desperate to escape her, and her hands were sweaty. But the room, the air around her, was chilled. She shivered. She was standing in a large, seemingly empty room. Complete darkness and silence encased her. For several seconds, she wasn’t sure what to do. A light breeze moved through the room, stroking her face and caressing her arms. “I…need to get out of here,” she whispered, afraid that someone should hear her voice. Afraid of hearing her own voice. But her words echoed around her, bouncing off the invisible walls. Her hands flew to her mouth, wishing she hadn’t spoken. “This place, I need to—I have to get out,” her thoughts ran together. Suddenly, she was startled by the sound of a light being turned on. A glow crept from behind her and she turned around. It illuminated a small table several yards away from her. Something tiny lay on the cold, unwelcoming metal. She took a step towards it, then another. The curiosity mounted as she drew closer. Then distress consumed her. It was a child, a tiny baby. Its petite hand groped upward, blood dripping down its fingers and arms; the baby tossed its head from side to side, letting out desperate cries for help. For air. For comfort.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t. Another soon light flashed on, its spotlight on another table. A puddle of blood was quickly accumulating where this baby’s hand had been. A bucket waited beside the table, the baby’s hand inside. Victoria shut her eyes and turned away. Her stomach turned. She was shaking. “What is this place?” she wanted to scream. Tears welled in her eyes as the horror that surrounded her sunk in. Then another light switched on. And another. She looked up. All around lights were revealing more tables. Her mind was spinning. Babies’ cries and screams filled the space. “Stop! Stop!” she screamed.
Victoria’s panicked screams turned to distressed cries. She fell to the ground, face in her hands, and sobbed. The faces of the two dying babies persisted to haunt her mind. They were alone, unable to be helped or comforted.
“No!” Victoria finally screamed, fighting sleep to sit up in bed. Her eyes, wet from tears, opened to the morning’s first rays of sunlight. She was still breathing heavily. Tears still escaped her eyes. She was still sweating, gripping the blanket in front of her. But the sun’s beams stole through the blinds to gently stroke her face with warmth. “I can’t do this,” she cried softly. She moved both hands to her stomach, cradling the tiny, growing child inside. “You won’t be alone like that. I won’t leave you. I can’t.”