Every year, he marvelled at the magnificence that bloomed around the bridge in that very spot. Despite the devastation they had witnessed, despite the acid anger that had railed upon them a decade ago, the bushes flowered as faithfully as he held his yearly vigil. Perhaps they sensed his presence.
© Nadia Brown, 2016
This is part of Sonya’s 3 Lines Tales – 100 words or less inspired by a weekly photo prompt!
Memories falling
Into the stillness of the
Autumn’s surrender
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Photo by: Markovich Photo Art
On a white-washed shelf,
The scarred remains of sweetness.
The player plays on…
Waiting in the wings
Breathing in the velvet air
That blankets the stage
Arms overflowing with props
Carefully mouthing each line.
© Nadia Brown
Danny is one of the good ones.
Ellen had married him just three weeks after her father died last year. Isadora raised her eyes dutifully, and felt her vision start to swim. Hazy bands of colour fishtailed out from the ceiling fan: Yellow, orange, and green. Rest in peace, Vittorio. Ellen and Danny had married against his will. His Will.
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Part 20 of Isadora. See parts 1 -19 here: Isadora Isadora – 2 Isadora – 3 Isadora – 4 Isadora – 5 Isadora – 6 Isadora – 7 Isadora – 8 Isadora – 9 Isadora – 10 Isadora – 11 Isadora – 12 Isadora – 13 Isadora – 14 Isadora – 15 Isadora – 16 Isadora – 17 Isadora – 18 Isadora – 19
A loon calls; wistful
Echoes rising from the mist –
Silent ripples spread.
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Between the gnarled roots
And leaves rustling underfoot
Life scampers freely
Ever purposeful; intent –
Spring under the canopy.
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Danny nodded from deep inside the chair next to Ellen. His pinkish skin appeared warped and damp in the haze reflected off the window. Like a mirage, thought Isadora. Dark rings of sweat spread outward from his collar and under his arms. But Isadora knew Danny would never complain. Nor would he ever leave. Ever.
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Clarity whispers
Waiting on the edge of these
Eloquent shadows
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Thunderous applause. She wakes to darkness.
© Nadia Brown, 2016
Becoming Roots 