Newest
The Long Road HomeIt was the summer Nyack died. And the hottest, driest summer we’d ever seen. The earth was bald and faded gray. What grass was left was cracked and yellowish brown. Cows walked aimlessly, making sad, low noises, their tongues searching shady corners for moisture. My brother and I spent the summer in much the same way – wandering. We haven’t stayed in one home for more than a few years since our parents died when I was ten. Men from the village burst into the house that night and yanked my mom up by the hair and dragged my dad out of the house, kicking and punching. Tumpe, a servant in our home,The Long Road Home
by ~canned-ice
Last WordsDearest Ellen, We just returned from a flight, and I am dirty, smelly, and tired. I’ll spare you the details, but let me just say that every time I see an enemy plane fall from the sky in a burst of flames, I can’t help but thank God that it was not I in that plane.Last Words
I am always compelled to write you after a flight. It seems that we are not getting any closer to an end to this war, and all I can think of is being in your arms and holding our little girl. Hours after a flight I can still hear the roar of the plane’s engines and the whistle of gunfire in my ears. The crack of enemy shells
by ~canned-ice
Favourites
7 10 am on a FridayThe thirteen acres I grew up on is no longer what it once was. Neglected, the woods look haggard, bedraggled by many storms, heavy winds, and inattention. The lands, a great hill with an orchard and two ponds, look to be in mourning. The algae-veiled ponds and flowing grasses lie in wait, dreaming of better days when children ran and played, shattering the ponds' bright surfaces, trampling the clean cut lawns. The towering trees that frame the ponds look like worn-out mothers, dead branches straggling down like stray bits of hair. The paths I once wandered lay untrodden and overgrown, the berry patches are now de7 10 am on a Friday
by ~hmariey
7 07 amMy daily walk is part of my sanity. Varying in length and route, it clears my heart and mind, reminding me that God is above all things. This morning my walk took me down a different road. Wanting to think and be reminded of my Lord, I took a road that is further away and leads through farm land. Only a mile outside our small city, suddenly one is thrust into the reality of our area. It is, at its heart, farmland. Farming and steel, the livelihood of this community relies on these.7 07 am
The road I chose weaves through corn fields and pasture land. The hills decorated in waves of yellow-green and gold with dark green betwee
by ~hmariey
Watchers
Journal
No journal entries yet.
deviantID
No deviantID yet.
Devious Info
- Interests: Writing, reading
- Favourite movie: Sense and Sensibility
- Favourite band or musician: Harry Connick Jr., Lifehouse
- Favourite genre of music: Jazz
- Favourite artist: Caravaggio
- Favourite poet or writer: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Kaye Gibbons, Tim O'Brien, Margaret George, C.S. Lewis, Madeleine L'Engle
- Personal Quote: There is nothing so secular that it cannot be sacred, that is the deepest message of the Incarnation
deviantART Community Board
Comments
Site Map
©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
--
Welcome to Rivendel, Mr. Anderson...
-- world out of balance - world without end - we are not afraid --
-Adam
Previous PageNext Page