Under the reaching pines

Before sunset, I light a fire.

Word after word I feed into the flames. Words like stay, and more, and please. The air is full of them: embers striving to be stars.

I feed your name into the fire as well, every syllable a promise. The trees thrust grasping fingers into the sky to draw down night’s blanket over us.

The ashes fall lightly on me. They stain my clothes, my hair, my skin. The ashes fall lightly, but they fall.

11 thoughts on “Under the reaching pines

  1. Bozdar says:

    While reading, I am able to imagine the scene. I love the way you carried out present tense in your story. Do you allow me to write a follow-up and link back to your story?


  2. Danielle Dayney says:

    Just to add in to what you and Christine were saying, I think that the release IS part of healing. Letting go. Allowing yourself to move on. It’s very realistic – I mean, who hasn’t burned a photo or two? And Christine – you’re a genius.


  3. Laura says:

    The pace of burning one syllable at a time, night being drawn down on them, the ashes falling lightly but enough to cover and stain everything…it felt less like a release and more like a necessary step towards healing. And “embers striving to be stars” is so so good.


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