short stories
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Out of the Shadows
It had been a cold and very frosty January night, the nipping air stole my breath, the fog had settled on sub-zero surfaces and the pelt of frost had accreted crystals upon crystals. The sky being velvet black was spangled with a myriad of twinkling stars, which were as numberless as days. The stalactite-like icicles suspended in silent grace, the moon was at its full round shine, and where the tree’s shadows were blackly stretching across the land, it captured my heart. My eyes were fixed like a ruby rock, leaving me spellbound, as the moon rained out her beams on the birch trees, transfiguring them in silvery brightness.
DECEMBER -Winter’s Grim
The heavy rainfall in November had silvered every twig and branch with heavy raindrops, that slide gently, merging into depths and flooding the land. The water lay in vast catchments over long periods as the ground was already turgid enticing many gulls inland. Like technicolour snowflakes, the autumn leaves had fallen silently without the merest whisper of a sound, a palette of many colours now lying dormant that will decay and become vital nourishment, given freely without delay.