I stepped into air—falling. I was falling down, down, until—my foot bare, the fleshy sole touched carpet. I tripped— my head hit another …
Just tell me what you think / Im in real need of some criticing because I’m not sure if I want to finish this story so help me out?
NSFW
one day / i gathered together / the feathers / of my dreams / but like icarus / i aspired too high
Written 13 July 2009.
Mrs. Raccoon arranged her collection of river rocks around her tree-stump table and in the light of the candles, sat her children down an…
An old forgotten window lay propped up among the wild Yarrow flowers, creating a haven for night creatures during the warm days. Mrs. Raccoon lit candles on the sill for her small family to enjoy their midnight dinner of newfound summer blackberries and peaches from the farmhouse garden. A dear friend, Mrs. Owl, swept through the air, almost glowing in the bright moonlight. She brought news of the nearby forest, of Mrs. Raccoon’s brothers and sisters, of the farm family children’s adventures of imaginary worlds amid the leafy floor and towering evergreens. For, it is well known that owls are wise and ever watching, patient sentinels of wild places.
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