Tag Archives: fiction in fifteen

Friday: fiction in fifteen – a canopy of promise

canopy

http://wp.me/p45h2I-6yF picture by paul militaru

Snow seems to be everywhere these days….I figure that if I can’t get away from it, I will write about it!  So here is my fiction in Fifteen:

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A Canopy of Promise

Snow covered branches form a canopy of protection over the trail carrying my feet toward a hopeful future. I step carefully upon its rock strewn surface, remembering the shaky beginnings of this chapter of life. The struggles were a fading distant memory, but ones that I dared not forget, lest they be repeated and the lessons learned – forgotten.

The lengthy hem of my cloak dragged upon the uneven earth, and caught mercilessly on exposed rocks, creating tears, like those of my heart freshly healed.  Its blood red velvet closed around the wounds, sealing the evidence, as did the blood shed upon the soil of my life.

My hands lift the heft.

Step carefully.

Remember.

Trees thin and open wide to reveal a hopeful expanse. A white edifice grows from the center, reflecting a promise kept, if only I step upon its foundation.

Feet sure.

Breathe.

Smiles greet mine and hands reach for my cloak: the torn and mended heart which I shed gratefully, revealing a pure white promise, one worn upon my transformed life.

A new road lay before me. One of sacrifice and trial, but also of receiving both truth and love. Each step forward proclaims commitment, and trust. But mostly a faith in the promise made. A promise from God… and man.

My man.

With each footfall my heart remembers the love. Each step taken, renews the commitment. And at the end of the trail, a new one begins, and I fall to my knees in supplication. A desperate prayer for a desire to serve the one I love, and the strength to see it through.

To shed the “me” in favor of the “us”.

One.

Forever.

No matter what.

This is the promise that I hold in my heart.

And it feeds my soul.

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Thanks for reading!  If you would like to read more, I have a devotional running on a beautiful life that speaks to the wisdom of dating and its power for a renewed commitment. I would love for you to stop by there and be filled!  Read it here: http://wp.me/p2zb9s-1ZE

Now it’s your turn!  Set your timer’s to 15 minutes and write from your heart!

 

 

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friday: fiction in fifteen ~ “hope feels”

hope feelshttp://wp.me/p45h2I-6qc “Hope sees the Invisible, Feels the Intangible, and achieves the Impossible.”

a great big thank you to paul militaru who takes such wonderful and inspiring pictures! Check out his site at the link above!

So – five minutes is just not long enough to write a creative short piece of fiction….for me anyway! I just love to create short pieces based on pictures; to contemplate what is going on between the lines. I would love to see what you have written during our friday ficiton segments.  Send me a message or post it in the comments..  Write for 5 or 15 – your choice! the point is to keep inspired and writing! Here is my story:

“Hope Feels”

by: lisa evola

I looked through the frost etched window at the shivering bird perched upon the ledge of my prison.

My prison. One of my own making really. I had been given choices. Choices to do the right thing, to admit my error and therefore join with the rest of the group in what they considered playful respite. I didn’t want it; the playfulness. I preferred instead to wallow in my misfortune, to breathe the frigid air of separation and guilt. I chose to sit, exposed and trembling, much like the sparrow outside the window now.

Like me, he has lost hope. He is unable to see the possibility of shelter all around him.  Shelter that would certainly thaw the blood slowing in his veins, that which would save the life so precariously balanced on that ledge. Life has a way of doing that; driving hope from an open wound in the heart. And so I close it up tight, so that not even a fractured ray can penetrate it. Then sit staring out, blinded to the light reflected there, the light that could achieve the impossible. Seeing only what my stony heart sees, which is but cold, icy frost covering all that I had once known as good.

I see the shivering sparrow. I see it still; its downy feathers puffed out to the elements, protectively encompassing his soon to be stony heart. Like mine. And a single tear runs down my cheek, the first in months. The tear clears a path through the skin, washing away the smudges left by careless word and deed. And a trail of heat is left, warming what is beneath. I touch my finger carefully to the tear, and as I pull it away from my face, more come. At first just a few, but then a river flows, ever widening the chasm. It washes my face, my heart – my soul. And as the tears soundlessly pour, I crank open the casement and reach for the tiny frozen sparrow. He does not resist my warm hands, but sits shaking intermittently in them.

Tucking him inside the opening of my sweatshirt, I coo, tears still falling. Falling from me to the bird at my breast, each drop causing him to flinch, then still again. Then he sees it, as I do too. The invisible. The intangible. The tears that would achieve the impossible.

To feel again.