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
Morning after monotonous morning he wandered about wearing untied black boots, grubby work gloves and a small knit hat which exaggerated the size of his ears.
Before beginning the chaotic afternoon collection of discarded bottles and cans, he crouched near the foot of his favorite tree to momentarily ease a weary yet undefeated sense of being.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
After persevering a punishing winter, replete with nearly insurmountable challenges, the tatterdemalion survivors at long last heard the wrought wheels of a mighty locomotive locked in a screeching halt.
As the family of ravaged souls assembled trackside, a foison of food and necessities was distributed under the direction of a sympathetic engineer who had recently lost his sister to the inhumane horrors of hypothermia.
(This is a follow-up to Mytwosentences 101)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Once a cotton gauze had been fastened with paper tape, the skittish little girl was given permission to pocket a sweet treat for her composed behavior during the daunting blood draw.
After thoroughly searching her jeans and jacket, a genuine smile of acceptance started to surface because fate had mysteriously mingled with the forthcoming results of her glucose test.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
While the spirit and spectacle of Halloween was lurking offshore like a rapidly rolling fog pausing at a quiet coastline, a seaward facing sunflower steadfastly sang.
The mellifluous voice of this glorious blossom continued in silent song, as an uneasy ambience began to parade its inevitable shade onto the stage.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The paperboy looked more than once as he pretended not to notice the broken teeth of an uneven staircase.
Even trick-or-treaters wouldn’t walk the steps that screamed worries and uncertainties to those with or without costumes.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
For far too long, she found herself subdued by the pungent stench of truculence simmering alongside countless seasonings within the broad bouillabaisse of society.
Despite the cynics seeing her billowing positivity as pure floccinaucinihilipilification, she had permanently removed the foul smell from her stagnant soul through a simple daily embrace of one thing wonderful.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 