At the end of the battle

Jesse stood in front of her mother’s grave and stared at the simple stone. Felicity Jones, October 1, 1970 to September 1, 2020. One more month and she would have been fifty. It was too soon. Jesse tried to cry, but her pain had withered into meaningless dust. The sky darkened above her head, reflecting … Continue reading At the end of the battle



Wind brushed through reeds poking up from marshy swampland as her lantern struggled to penetrate the murky night; each muddy step more difficult than the last. “Willow?” Her tone plaintive as tears threatened. In the distance, a bark. A tentative smile and then, wet fur with sloppy kisses. This month's microprose had to be 48 … Continue reading Lost