Category: prose
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21.10: A Six – The Book of 27
25 of 27: Glintmere – The Hesitant Harmony:A Moment of Hesitant Harmony: a road trip with my sister My sister drove with a headmistress’s composure, the silence between us taut as piano wire — until she muttered, low and dry, “You always sold more Girl Scout cookies to Mr. Murray than I did,” and I…
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18.10: MicroDosing 50 µg
The Gentlest Stalker The past is a quiet stalker. It walks beside you in the supermarket. A breath. A faint chill as you reach for peaches. It sits beside you, a silhouette you never quite see, but always feel. It’s the ghost of who you were, keeping pace with who you are. Written for Microdosing: 50µg…
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17 Oct: A Six Sentence Story
Carrying the Weight The old man carried the village’s silence up the mountain each morning. Not in a sack, but in the hollow humming of his throat. It was the weight of unmade decisions, and need left unsaid. At the summit, he’d open his mouth, and let the wind take it all. The valley below…
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15.10: MicroDosing 50 µg
Paint It Black He didn’t paint the void; he painted its memory. Like hollows left when a star collapses. Or silence after a string snaps. The shape of breath frozen midair. He mixed not pigment, but absence — until the canvas was but a door. And from the other side, something began to knock. Written…
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14.10: A Six – The Book of 27
23 of 27 — Wraithborne: A Glance Mistaken for Something Else The Taste of Almost Brigid notices the smudge first — a violet-ash on her teacup’s rim, still warm, the shape of a thumbprint, the weight of an unfinished thought — and this would mean nothing, except she lives alone, and has done for many…
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13.10: Wraithborne – The Liturgy
23 of 27 – Wraithborne: A glance mistaken for something else The Liturgy for Wraithborne I. The GlanceNot a ghost — just time’s stutter,a flicker where the light bends wrongand suddenly, you’re staringat a face you almost lovedin a life you almost lived.Wraithborne grins.You blink.The crow swallows the evidence. II. Its ColourAsh-lit violet is the…
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13 Oct: The Key
The Key That soundof the lock surrendering.Of ancient fingersfinally answering. I am the keeperof the lock.Of its click.The finder of its form in its beautiful chaos.I keep turning the keys.I keep listeningfor the locks to click. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
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12 Oct: The Forgiveness of Stones
The Forgiveness of Stones Senryu The light reaches down —a blue forgiveness for allthe stones we carry. Haiku Sunlight on cold stone,drifting through silent blue hymns —the sea’s breathing glass. Written for SenHai Saturday I Write Her senyru and haiku. poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025. Image from Unsplash
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9.10: Thundershade – The Liturgy
22 of 27 · Liturgy for the Unseen Sky I. The Unseen We knew the sky existednot because we saw its blue,its vastness,its sea of stars —but because we heard the storm. We felt its breath upon our faces,cold and electric.We heard its voicein the groan of the pines,the shudder of the shutters,the long, low…
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8 Oct: A Six – The Book of 27
22 of 27: Thundershade – a Colour once felt, not seen—Faith in resonance, sight through storm Thundershade — Faith in resonance, sight through storm The night was blind-thick with silence and hidden behind clouds — then came thunder crawling through the walls, low and certain, and she knew the storm was already standing on the…
It's Still Life 