Not as easy as you think, sneaking up on yourself, so I’ve sent up a plea to the vowel gods and implored the concierge of consonents to assist me with this, my entry for this week’s 6 Sentence Story. I mean, if the stars can occaisionally align, then why, oh why can’t the independent letters of the English alphabet align themselves into words to form a clever little story, poem, vignette….something. I mean we’re only talking 6 sentences!
It was Christmas Eve, all Currier & Ives smeared windows, picture perfect New England winter wonderland day, oh, so silent.
Slight crunching could be heard from boots trying to walk on frozen water, almost successful, treading carefully, making their way guiltily to the front door, a stick snapping in two, a precursor to events yet to unfold .
Hushed, yet not night, the sun ambled it’s way, rolling like a beach ball over the dunes towards the distant blue black horizon, to take refuge for another cycle, night following a day, always.
Life, it seemed, would never be the same, an era ending, not so much in fireworks as in the slow extinguishing of a single, solo, smoldering ember, the dying of a fire never meant to go out.
Where, when, how, do paths veer, hearts wander, intent go astray….
Christmas Day, surely was solemn as two hearts lay, torn asunder, beneath the low hanging branches of a holiday tree adorned majestically, sadly for a last time, would the star shine.