Short Story – Page 8 – Mary Grace Writing

Lava Worm

Was it a shriek of delight or fear? She didn’t know as it forced its way from her chest to the cavity of her mouth. A little heart pounded the rhythm of it as it bubbled into an audible note. “Stay back. You can’t catch me.” The floor moved. The carpet rippling right before her…
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Six Word Stories (27)

I have always loved the simple things in life. A nice sharp crayon. A heavily weighted paper. Yet the latter never belonged wrapped around the other, even in my child mind. I would unwrap each individual crayon so that the whole could be used for making my pictures. As an adult, I am learning how…
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Six Word Stories (26)

When we listen to music, we hear the rhythm of a spirit. When we make music together, that’s a kind of lovemaking. An intimacy. A sharing of existence. It’s not touch. It doesn’t need words. But it invites all who hear into this space. A controlled chaos of language and emotions. A corporate call. Worship.…
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Chords

A single Wave came awake. Was it particles all clumped together? No. It was sound. A singleness that moved and bounced and collided with its siblings within the darkness.
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Six Word Stories (25)

Learning to grow in silence can be hard. Sometimes we think all the action happens when our lives are spinning at a crazy pace. But we still grow in silence. It’s like a child doing most of his growing while asleep. Or a brain learning when it’s allowed to be bored. When WE are silent,…
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Six Word Stories (24)

The Mourning Dove is not a creature I ever thought about before our first homeschool unit last September. There are several pairs that call our neighborhood home, and a few of them even wintered here instead of flying south. Our feeder was a welcome buffet. Their call is a haunting song of love. I was…
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Six Word Stories (23)

It’s the little things that decide weakness or strength. It’s the unguarded places that erosion starts. Mountains are raised by pressure and flattened with quakes, while water and ice brake walls. Humans crack under pressure, our pieces scattered. I am learning not to fear the brake so much. Because I have seen the art in…
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Gregory

Strong hands trace the grains down the length of lumber. “She’s beautiful.” “It’ll do then?” “Perfectly.” Muscular hands grasp the beam, pulling it down from the delivery truck.
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Six Word Stories (22)

What is hope? An intangible thing that all humanity grasps for. Sometimes I imagine I can feel it’s edges like a feather soft thing, just out of reach. But is it really out of reach? Is hope something to be grasped? No. Hope is experienced, not held. Hope is found but not possessed. It lives…
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Six Word Stories (21)

He knew the sound of a healthy engine. He could tell what was off… The sound wasn’t right.
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Category: Short Story