Fragments

From my writing journal – 7.4.2017

A twig snaps, cracking the air and breaking the silence. The warmth has brought the wood to life with scents of rotten leaves mingling with the fresh growth of spring. The leaves are spreading out in the trees, shielding the russet floor from the high noon sun. The light steals through to throw fireflies across the dusty air, dappling the goldern light across the rough bark. A blackbird’s song rings out, clear and true and she pauses in that moment, enjoying the song, the scents, the warmth, the soft light. It could be just her and that blackbird in the whole wood, that’s how she feels. It could just be her and that blackbird in the whole world. She almost hoped for a moment that it was true.

From my writing journal – 14.4.2017

She lay there under the stretching night sky, waiting for him. She started to try to count the stars but she knew it was pointless. Stars appeared and vanished as she counted and the expanse was unfathomable. She tried to really think about what she was seeing: balls of burning gas long since extinguished. She was watching the history of the universe play out before her. And she was still waiting.

She could catch the distant smoke of a bonfire. It made her aware of others and this made her feel even more alone. The haunting echo of a loon called out over the still lake but there were counts that were intrusions too – the bass of a far off car stereo and the occasional shout of high-jinx. She was almost finished waiting. He had ten more minutes.