As twisty gray branches stretch to touch the dense cloud deck thickening above a rust of needles and pine cones, the cold breath of winter’s envious voice freezes on contact with the lifeless nape of a woodland neck.
After a valediction from the lifting morning fog, a drab landscape transforms into eudemonic lushness which flourishes within the untethered imagination of those willing to pause, calmly breathe and believe.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Along a road that looped around and returned to itself, a small settlement of diverse houses seemingly held hands in a grand circularity which formed overlapping land boundaries and lasting family friendships.
Soon after she fugaciously moved into the tight-knit neighborhood, Mrs. Donahue made a permanent impression with her cozy disposition, perfectly manicured property and the tendency to share delectable creations she recurrently cooked.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
As I wiped drying drops of blood off my brow, numbing knees briefly held me in place while the enigmatic figure unlocked his lamp-like eyes from mine to turn and point into the darkness.
While choking on my pounding heart, which was throwing itself against my chest, the retreating silhouette dissolved into the nighttide revealing the incomprehensible sight of a cemetery entrance that simply didn’t exist.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 122)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 