Fireweed

At the crack of dawn the fog came down and gave the earth a gossamer gown. Like angels hair it filled the air, the trees were an evergreen comb. It ...

A red balloon came drifting by, floating free through the saphire sky. The chickadees chirp, The turtledoves croon, "Where are you off to, red balloon?" East of the sun and ...

This is a bit mushy for my taste, but my sister insisted i put it on here. I considered putting it in romantic fiction, put i decided it was more ...

Glossy black on blinding white, Feathers gleam in moon-pale light, They shake white showers from the trees, Ravens ride the icy breeze. Blots of ink on a paper sheet, Purity ...

It was an afternoon in late Autumn. The air was frigid and the wind bitter. It blew in fierce little gusts, penetrating the old man's thin, worn coat and sending ...

That regal, radiant empress rules the starry vaults of night, She braves the lonesome darkness with her brilliant, silver light. The winter air is bitter and frigid breezes blow, But ...

Sarah Byrnes and Eric Calhoune are two teenage outcasts united in elementary school by their physical flaws- Sarah's face is disfigured by terrible burn scars which she claims were caused ...

I am a Paper Girl, (The flimsy, blue-lined notebook variety). My skin is scrawled with sooty black ink, And sooty black ink runs through my veins. I have a Paper ...

Okey-doke, My assignment is to either defend or disagree with the statement, "Thucydides deserved to be recognized as the father of modern history." If you don't know who Thucydides was, ...

Would this go in Historical Fic.? I doubt it, but feel free to move it, mods. The protest was a vast sea of anti-war signs and multicolored clothing. The air ...

Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen is the memoir of a woman who was institutionalized as a teenager in the sixties for Borderline personality disorder. It describes her experiences at the ...

She cupped the wriggling larvae in her palms and whispered her plea, her words as frail as spider silk: You and I have butterfly dreams.Teach me how to metamorphose. She ...

[i]L'amour est enfant de boheme, Il n'a jamais jamais connu de loi...[/i] She was a master puppeteer: Chiseling out men's hearts as if from wood, Stringing them up and suspending ...

battered bob dylan wanna-be sings about drug wars and crack whores (finger-plucked acoustic chords) [i]I kneel by his pleading guitar case with a faded green bill and hope my smile ...

It was my eleventh summer, A balmy British Colombia night. Splintery planks pressed up through our clothing as we Lay on the narrow dock, elevated just above the lake’s surface- ...

December December took a long drag on her cigarette, then tipped her head back and blew a series of smoke rings, watching them rise and dissipate. A crow flew overhead ...

Sun-drenched days stretched into one another and they reveled in their urban Eden- gathered flowers that sprung thick from the graffitied gardens of faded walls, drank the sepia sunsets like ...

they say there are no atheists in foxholes-that human nature dictatesthat in the throes of desperationwe all find athiests in car crashesor cancer wards or bombing raids or quakes.but by ...

 in love with the chilly night and neon lights and starsthat sting the smoggy atmosphere like tears,with the thrum of cars and the bustle of bars and the vagabonds strumming ...