One

[catelin]

Turnabout's Fair Play.

For any of you with fifty words just itching to get out, please feel free to create your own tiny window for me. Or for anyone else. I'd love to close the tiny windows for now on that note.

Comments

[daisydumont.livejournal.com]

she lives by the light of the moon. it guides her as it does the tides. through some lunar magic she finds herself as happy as she’s ever been, fulfilled and glad to be making changes. as she moves from south to north, she’ll find that the moon follows her.

[kissel.livejournal.com]

With the wind he went, riding the pony of hope. At the corral he had no provisions and nowhere to tie the horse up inside him, wild and unbridled he tried to tame the mare called Future, but she wasn't meant to be tamed... and she became the master. All the while the fury inside him built and built.

Just some thoughts.. don't get mad if it doesn't fit.

[nandan.livejournal.com]

She was a woman who had been almost violently independent. Her independence, her fearlessness, her passion were basic to her, to her self image, to the image that others looked for in her. She looked forward to easing up, slacking the reins, sliding into life and into somebody's arms the way you would slide into a velvet armchair.

[ex-fireangel472.livejournal.com]

Another case wrapped up. Another child saved from a life of misery. Another step closer to making up for love lost, for time lost, for the times that things were not right and no one to right them for her.

She has worked so hard over the years to make sure the past is not repeated but the night terrors persist when no one is around and she wakes up to study again for the next final, to meet the next "impossible" task set before her. Forever chasing a dream but perhaps not fully realizing how to recognize when she has "arrived". She has given up on gaining the validation and praise from her parents but a part of her, a little girl deep inside, still longs for it and wishes it could be.

"They don't know me", she whispers to herself. "Nobody really knows me."

She shudders at the memories. Her memories. Their memories. They burn her soul and she goes to find solace in hugging her two boys, safe in her arms and vows to make sure they never have to go through that. Ever.

invitation

[susanstinson.livejournal.com]

He touches kindness with oblique persistence, and travels well. He has a deep solitary streak, but offers the most beautiful food – sausage lasagna, coq au vin, thai curry made with pepper paste from the garden – as if company feeds mind, heart and soul. He walks a lot, shining or grim.

[raindog.livejournal.com]

People come to her winery, admire the view, the rows of wild grape and careful-tended flowers. She stirs and watches through a wide window, then gathers the visitors. She pours the wine and they drink, eager for her visions and their reflections swirling in the glass.

hands

[lacyunderall.livejournal.com]

Hands have always fascinated the old woman. From their utilitarian meanness, to their elegance and craftiness. She had always hoped that hers would never lose the lovely look of the clever, that the taut skin would never become crepe. They did, though. They necessarily became a ropy tapestry of history, the Story of Her.

[youdbesurprised.livejournal.com]

Hi,

I added you to my friends list, so I thought I'd drop by and say hello...

Hello :)

[catelin.livejournal.com]

Hello back. Thanks for letting me know you are out there. : )