..."anything but a hand"...ha; to say the least, I must say your final words were appropriate!
Seriously, it's been on my mind lately that we often "cruise through" those moments of fear and anxiety--that if we actually let our emotions out, people would have a completely different story to tell about the whole scenario through which they lived! The way you noted your trembling hands is to what I refer.
Another nice touch was the way you described the rattling of a chain as you neared the broken-down old house. That would have occurred to me as impossible, as well, even though you can hear it!
Over all, this work is humorous, decidedly descriptive--especially in the relating of the dream and all it's nuances. ' Hope to hear from you to enjoy more of your work! God bless.
This has been excellently - constructed prose. I can easily see and experience the movement of the armadas, the winged seagulls following the storm, the smoke of conflict engagement on high seas. Great work! Looking forward to hearing more from this author! Job well done!
Honestly, I find this story very beautiful. I love the tears. So many tears; I pictured every one. It is expertly written and I have no criticism to present. Keep writing! Beautiful and interesting! The Story line is easily understood and liked; Miranda is so mature in that she knows what is important: that the fairies be set at liberty--brought back from wherever they were whisked off to when captured. One learns some beautiful lessons about life in a fictional work. Great Job!
this was a good, surprise ending, because the teens were absolutely unhindered by fear on one hand, when suddenly the tombstone shocked them into a fearful retreat! Well-written and thanks for sharing!
Wow...the freedom of expression, be it the exposing of our knees or the written word, can be construed as freedom only because it was not immediately apparent to the naked eye; it was not the norm, so in youthful noncompliance, the student body exposed itself with their own version of truth, their own version of what it means to be a rebel.
We pick our battles, and this young girl had stirred up in her class an example which neither they nor she would surpass for many years. Call her a pioneer in the short skirt arena; the popularity and the beauty was coupled with a short skirt and the crowd went wild.
"Harper Valley P.T.A." is a song I'm reminded of; the lesson in that song dictates that none throw the first stone; hypocrisy is sometimes a given in areas of modesty, but sin is sin and we inadvertently measure it and assign it certain levels of promiscuity. This short story really made me think! Very interesting material! Thanks for sharing....Samantha Quade 4/19/17
WOW; that was good! I was swept up in the predicament she was in, because she had excelled in her field, but still could not achieve the total admiration and respect of her family...
Although that door swings both ways: Her embarrassment when she broke the news to her fiance (that her family was in a circus) was no different than their disdain over her "mediocre" attempts at success (lol). To both parties, the opposite was a dismal failure.
Your depiction of the little "childlike" stance Peter had exhibited for the first time moved me emotionally. I wanted to cry over the word: "Wonder".
Very well written, and a joy to read! Hope to hear more from you! --Samantha Quade
This pome is so beautiful; it is sad in that as a child one never loves to be alone; there is a yawning void left when we abandon our playmates to carry on our own routes or goals. The very idea that those of the female persuasion can polish guns and knit equally well makes us larger than life, great heroines of literature, but what of the mate who meant so much, the one who was the perfect teammate? I stand with the dragonchaser, myself! this poem was great and emotionally charged; I enjoyed it very much. Thanks fo sharing....
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