*Here are four separate 75 Word Short Stories*
Spring Breeze
Wind blew outside the bedroom window. It was a warm wind, though, intend on bringing forth spring. Snow still littered the ground, there in early January, but the thought of springtime soon coming felt welcome and warm.
The chinook was wonderful; it reminded her of peace and tranquility. And with her mind racing with all the unruly things life was throwing at her, the soft spring breeze warmed her soul, and made her worries vanish.
♤♡◇♧
The Road Shows
I miss the road shows. I miss mountain ranges that are unfamiliar to me greet me with a warm embrace. I miss driving through cities of mystery, only to imagine them in full wonder. I miss talking and laughing on the way, feeling at home with people I see as family. I miss stopping for lunch, and talking about the work we would soon be doing.
I miss it all. I miss you, Street Spirits.
♤♡◇♧
The Old Space
He never thought sitting with people who understood him, in those four walls, would bring him so much joy. Amongst the mismatched furniture and painted plywood stage. Amongst the checkerboard floor and the orange and yellow walls. Amongst the bar counter, that says "Ike was here" written in blue ballpoint pen on the left side.
That was a home away from home. That place was heaven. And now, that place only exists in his mind.
♤♡◇♧
Painting Hope
Paint covers his fingers. Tears run down his cheeks. He sits on the floor of his room, knees to his chest and his head in his hands. Crimson sticks to his hair.
Above him on an easel is a beautiful painting, of what he feels hope is. Vibrant and elegant, bright and happy. Almost out of reach.
He sits on the floor, beneath it. He feels gray, like all of his hope has left him.
YOU ARE READING
365
Non-FictionI had this idea last night after a few drinks, a pounding headache, and an excessive amount of throat lozenges. In order to inspire me to write more often than I currently do, I am planning to write a new post every day and publish it, allowing me t...
