Stories are meant to be shared:
<<< first story < previous story next story > latest story >>>
On a calm, clear night, I see his ghost out on the bay. On a calm, clear night, I look out and wonder if he seems closer now than he did the night before. On a calm, clear night, he reaches the shore below my cottage and his face is close enough for me to look into eyes that swallow moonlight. on a calm, clear night, I sit in the chair by the door waiting for his knock, knowing I will have no choice but to rise and let him in, and it is the calmest, clearest thought I have ever known.
Short story written by Peter Chiykowski
website twitter facebook instagramStory prompt taken from a photo by Lukas Robertson
website twitter instagram