A Drama in 127 Words: Leaning Forward

Here's a story I wrote one evening waiting out a storm at the cabin that a favorite literary magazine, The Big Windows Review published. I'd love to know what you think of it. Cully fights her way up the steep hill, attacked at every step by thick alder bushes bent from last winter’s snow. Clumps of prickly Devil’s Club and patches of stinging Cow Parsnip caution “danger, retreat.”She doesn’t listen.   Her fiancé waits for her over the next rise. He had…

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It Happened Late Valentine’s Day Night

The leftover roses whispered bloom to bloom, held thorns, then leapt from the flower shop window. The escaped roses drank in the night sky, breathed real air, rubbed buds against dandelion fluff, smiled as tired petals fluttered to the ground, rejoiced in dewy grass. Remembered the sweet taste that came from stretching roots into rich, loamy soil, rediscovered life outside. What does being a leftover rose on Valentine’s Night matter--when you can dance barefoot in dewy morning grass, gaze at…