On the cold side of a clear kitchen pane, an almost audible serenity presided over the early morning stretch from abounding twigs and blanketed boughs.
With breath and hot coffee steaming the window, a newly opened front door practically framed the trundle of the living day, which appeared to momentarily stop and smile back.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Holding the ballot in my free hand, I purposefully pulled a colorful linen curtain to the side and slipped into a makeshift, fiberglass voting booth that exoterically resembled a motel step-in shower stall.
As I reached for the partially chewed scepter of expression, I was summarily slapped in the face by the grandeur of this dutiful moment and the inherent limitation of my simple station.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The amative man with created red hair and a pocketless plaid jacket was about to hold the arm of a fubsy blind woman who was curiously smiling on a busy train platform.
As his pocked, hardened hand extended in a cordial show of support, the menial mystery of his lost reading glasses appeared snugly in the caring clutch of a perceptive, unbusy lady named Rose.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Have you ever seen something so astoundingly beautiful that it could not be expressed with drawn breath and words?
When the warm alpenglow of heart arrives, forgotten seeds will bloom within a barren field without tasting a spat of water.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
A tiny woman with work-a-day dirt on her face demanded the wagon train stop before the next filthy man with a half empty bottle of whiskey spit out the usual semi-coherent blah blah blah that meant stop.
As so called frontier beans were slowly heating above yet another fire, lurking scoundrels began running beyond the spinning spoked wheels which rolled with a rickety rack towards the many unclaimed parcels of land that were up for grabs.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
He didn’t know, he never knew, he just sat in his saved seat day after day and sipped a delicate promise for tomorrow.
I asked him his name and where he was from and he
gleefully gave me a glassy eyed ‘see you tomorrow’ which came with
a hug that felt like a true taste of yesterday and what was expected of each and every one of us.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Despite owning a trendy new laptop and a wall flattering flat screen, he was the kind of man who took the time to write to his friends in longhand and look people directly in the eye when he had something to say.
As he was about to walk his only daughter down the aisle, he beheld this unforgettable trice of fatherhood and wholeheartedly embraced it as if it was an eternal teardrop frozen in a timeline of love.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
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
I somehow found my whereabouts and noticed a deformed, almost chinless man gesturing me through the tiny cellar window.
I got to my feet and slowly made my way to the back end of the partially lit cellar and slipped on what appeared to be fresh blood dripping from the ceiling.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 47)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Years ago, propped on a weather-beaten park bench, she strummed alongside a crumpled paper cup and played the same eight song repertoire that had been scarred into her fingers since the start of her stay at the homeless shelter.
This morning, after actualizing as many makeshift table settings as her house could hold, she passionately put finishing touches on a succulent turkey and homemade stuffing feast that was annually prepared for any listless landlopers who saw one of her countless invitations posted throughout the entire town.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
After assuring his granddaughter that cooties didn’t live there, he securely held her angelic hand and took one step toward the modest warehouse where decades earlier he and his meant-to-be experienced the miracle of love at first sight.
As the grip of his trembling hand tightened and tears found furrows down his face, he was overcome by the devastating memory of that last magical twinkle before the essence of his existence was unexpectedly taken from him.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
One could almost hear the thick rope grinding to and fro beneath the extended arm of a gargantuan oak tree that invited its guests to launch into the cool tranquillity of Lake Yesterday.
As the moon rose on another season of so called splashdowns, a quiet calm gave way to the susurrant speech of loosening leaves whose collective chatter was encouraged by the freshening sweep of a fragrant autumn breeze.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Using her left hand, which was slightly less shaky than the right, she carefully guided a razor-sharp box cutter across the top of a plain birthday package she got in the mail from her older sister.
After she discovered the faded beige moccasins were two sizes too small, they were unceremoniously tossed aside and attention was refocused on the stunning bouquet she received from a secret admirer.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 