The Realms of a Fantastical Mind

My feet hit the soft littered floor of the forest.  All around me were the sounds of birds. At least, I thought they were birds.  The forest opened up to a path, dark with heavy foliage on one side.  The light of the sun broke in streams on the other.   Beautiful to behold.  I took another light step. "Magical or Mundane?"  The words echoed in my head.  I looked around. Did I imagine that? "Mundane or Magical?" I flinched, the voice deepened.  What was it asking me? If I was magical or mundane? I stumbled trying to think.  Should I answer it? "Um... mundane?" The trees hissed while a flock of birds scattered above.   A roar, louder and deeper than any voice in my head, made my knees shake.  Crashing through the thick woods a bear came into view.  It stopped when it spotted me.  Raising up on it's hind legs it roared again.  Holding my ears I took a step back.  The beast was taller than I had ever im...

I stepped up to the bridge. The blue flowers around it spread across the grassy land.  Beyond there was dark forest.  Did I dare to walk the bridge to the unknown?  It seemed welcoming enough. Noises from beyond made my heart flutter.  Footsteps shifted on leaves and sticks.  Twittering noises from the forest floor and around the canopy, called to me.  There could be anything between the human civilized world on this side of the bridge and what lived on the other side. Everyone who had ever crossed the bridge were never heard from again.  Did they find a new world that they now live in joyous contentment, or were they now lost souls wondering the beyond? I couldn't stand there much longer. I couldn't walk away either.  It was time to decide.  Easing one foot on the bridge, I settled my hand on the old course wood.  I slowly moved across. Gripping the railing with each step, my feet led me over.  The smell of flowers flowed ...

The waves crashed against her feet, as Melandra coughed wet sand out of her mouth.  Dazed, she lifted her head to look around.  She was alive, but alone.  Debris from the ship lay all around her, along with the crates from the cargo hold.  However, there were no signs of any other survivors. She was shocked to find that all of her items, though waterlogged, stayed with her, reminding her of her determination to hold on to her only protection.  She was dizzy and weak from floating on bits of wood all night.  Hurt but still alive the wind reminded her that she may not remain so if she doesn't get warm, and soon.  The temperature was only slightly warming with dawns light breaking over the pine trees, past the beach. She searched around but all there was to offer was wet wood. Causing it to be much more difficult to light a fire than it usually was.  She owed it to being so dizzy and disoriented.  Looking around she spotted black smo...

Time flies by on wings unseen. Words flow to page as if they were already written but there is not enough time to write to dream. When you wake will you still see what was written behind your eyes? Will you see the beauty of imagination's first kiss last kiss Walk in the shadows of light walk on the clouds of thought. it is your dream you desire your choice to remember and write the story share with the world the depths in which imagination can flow It's your choice. Sorry if you weren't expecting poetry.  It comes and goes, I haven't shared mine in almost 10years.  I apologize if it seems a bit off.  I'm rusty at it, but the poetry has been hovering over my shoulder for the past few days and ran through me when I started to write.  Kind-of how my characters are at times in the story I'm writing.   The question I wanted to ask, is how many of us create our stories out of a dream? I could say that mine was create...

I've been trying to get my crap together. Organize what I'm doing when and trying to get things running smoothly. And what happens but I find myself snuggled up to my kobo reading series after series of my favorite authors. Nothing I wanted to get done, gets done and my poor book is again neglected like the house plant that hasn't been watered for weeks. It sits with it's pages drooping over the edge of the table, practically begging to get picked up and revised fully into the 5th draft. 'Please' it whispers in the dark of night as I lay sleeping, 'please remember I'm here.' so after 2 weeks of my horrible behavior of reading, in which I've been poking and prodding at other writers work, only because I've done so much to my own book that I can't help but see what the holes are, I opened my critiquing folder and had a crack at a 1st chap of a MS that I should have opened the day I got it. I'm not even saying that out of duty, oh ...

"Close your eyes." He said. I smiled at him, he was always being so random.  His brown eyes twinkled in the sun as his blond hair reflected the golden rays.  I closed my eyes, allowing the image of him hover behind my eyelids. "Now, listen to everything around you."  He said, I went to speak but he placed his warm finger on my lips. "No, just listen." I opened my senses to everything around me, we were outside and the park was full of sound today.  I could hear the strange squawking of the squirrels in the trees.  The birds flapped away as a squeaky wheel sped past us, their screech of protest echoing back from each bird as they flew overhead. There was a low murmur from the couple that sat a few benches over from us.  There was a swishing of the trees before a slight breeze hit my face.  In the distance I could hear the rumble of cars on the main street.  We were far enough away that I never...

They walked out of the building, hand in hand.  It had been so long since they had seen each other and the noises of the Boston streets welcomed them as they stepped off the stoop.  She looked up at him and smiled, gazing into his deep blue eyes. She studied his face that wasn't young anymore, but still had the charms from high school.  He smiled in return and tugged her toward down town. They headed to the dunkin` donuts shop at the edge of the street.  She had told him how her days in Washington state had been empty without the taste of eastern coffee.  On a whim he felt she needed to relive that part of her past.  Starbucks for him had always been a bit lacking in a certain taste and far too expensive.  He loved the idea of not having to break the bank to enjoy a dunk-a-chino, his sweet tooth begged for it even now and he laughed at the idea.  She squeezed his hand and they felt like teenagers again in the streets of Gardner MA...