Along the highway,
the sprawling forest
clings to the shoulder
of the steep hill.
The tall Cedar
growing on the sides
bend all the way upwards
to hug and please,
hoping the hill wouldn’t
shrug them off
into the abyss…
so much like I do
everyday
for you.
“I don’t know what the Captain was thinking, dropping me and taking another goalie? I’m the best this school has ever seen. Heck! I’m the best in the country!
I’m sure, he’s jealous! His girl has the hots for me, you know. Or maybe, he’s afraid I’ll replace him as a Captain. He’s been trying to discredit me for so long.
You saw him the other day during the match. I was telling that Centre Forward how to hold his stick properly and the Captain jumped out of his pants shouting on the top of his lungs. Even the Coach sided by him, telling me it wasn’t my place and sent me back to the goal. There have been so many incidents like that. And now this!
You are my only hope, sir. As the Principal of our school, I trust you would not let jealousy stand in the way of the next Miracle.”
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
I walk in the woods, my eyes seeing red, literally. My anger is spilling out in waves. The swishing sound she leaves behind her makes me grit my teeth.
Why does she have to sound so graceful even now, while I crush the leaves under my feet?
Why could I never be like her? People stop to admire her when she enters a room while I move in her shadow, forever unnoticed and ignored.
Even Papa…
Well, she isn’t pretty anymore with the glass pieces and blood on her face. I drag her in the ravine, finally at peace.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
This post is now part of a short story collection. I will upload the links soon.
Hi All, One of my older stories was published on Drabble.com, a website that specialises in quality short stories.
Please visit and hit the Like/Share/Reblog button if you like it.
via The Road
She leaned in for a kiss—
my angel,
a flower petal herself.
My closed eyes
ticklish
with her breath.
With abated breath,
I waited,
as I felt her tender fingers,
touch my rouge hair,
wind around
my neck and heart.
Then, she snapped it.
Well! At least,
I never felt the pain.
Alone at dusk I connect the dots,
stars and memories in my mind.
Because I cannot see the future, only feel,
I might as well imagine
and dip my head into the dark sky, awake.
-by Dara Lafayette
Dara Lafayette is a fellow writer from Ireland, a musician and a budding artist. He is a dear friend and my favorite critic who has helped me articulate my thoughts in words.
This is why he writes: “My creative energy draws me to write with passion; to create a scene full of tone and story, and mystery and mastery of words. Writing is breathing to me. It helps me accept the simple and intricate bittersweet beauty of life as I breathe in the woods, forests and beaches. I’m a member of a non-fiction writers group and have done several public readings. Currently, I’m editing the first draft of my debut book of poetry.”
You can find his other pieces of poetry on his writer’s group: https://corknonfictionwriters.blogspot.com/search?q=dara
Photo by Ivan Mani on Unsplash
How can one man be so happy,
with so little,
All you have is,
books and friends and food,
The sun only guides your footsteps
during daylight
Fire of night
is made of simple wood
And even now your lifelong heart
is only just beginning to forgive
Your sights
are only strands and streams,
though fitting
Seats that do not creak
are dry and solid sitting
Toast of thin honey,
and butter slender spread
Distilled life
into only
One body
One heart
One head.
-by Dara Lafayette
Dara Lafayette is a fellow writer from Ireland, a musician and a budding artist. He is a dear friend and my favorite critic who has helped me articulate my thoughts in words.
This is why he writes: “My creative energy draws me to write with passion; to create a scene full of tone and story, and mystery and mastery of words. Writing is breathing to me. It helps me accept the simple and intricate bittersweet beauty of life as I breathe in the woods, forests and beaches. I’m a member of a non-fiction writers group and have done several public readings. Currently, I’m editing the first draft of my debut book of poetry.”
You can find his other pieces of poetry on his writer’s group: https://corknonfictionwriters.blogspot.com/search?q=dara
Photo by Cameron Vaughan on Unsplash
So far, he had avoided sitting on the pristine bed, as if it carried a disease.
Earlier, when she had flirted with him during the meeting in her penthouse, he had gone along with it. She was a tough client, and the deal was too important. When, she asked him to spend the night—an opportunity to please her—he didn’t think twice.
Now, he wondered why it made him uneasy. They were both consenting adults and none in a relationship. He’d had casual relations before for fun.
But he was interested in those women.
This time, she was just…a cheque.
Pleasure for money—does this make him a prostitute? Why hadn’t he accompanied her in the bath like he usually did with women? Why was he already planning to leave before dawn to avoid the ‘walk of shame’? Why was he still hoping she’d change her mind?
The faint sound of the bathroom doorknob made him choose quickly.
Hastily, he gathered his most charming smile, ready to serve his master…in every way.
Photo by Febrian Zakaria on Unsplash
Before I met you,
I always wondered
If you had meant
More than your words.
When you took my name
On the call,
I dreamt of the sparks
You’ll send with your first touch.
I longed to meet you
So that
You’d look at me
With eyes full of love.
I trusted when
You found me alone
That you would care
If I get hurt.
But now that I’m hurt,
I know
It was all in my head.
It was all in my head.
Short Stories 