Comments Posted By Ann M. Lynn

Displaying 1 To 19 Of 19 Comments

ancient

The ancient runes rose high above the beach. Karri stuck her spear in the sound and watched as the light from the fading sun changed against the stone walls.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 07.16.2017 @ 6:45 pm

prisoner

The sea wasn’t so bad for company. It waved at me every day, and offered soothing conversations, though they were hard to hear.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 09.09.2013 @ 8:51 pm

railway

She balanced on the rails. Step, balance, step, balance. Her arms wavered at her side. Her torso struggled to keep them even. Without the alcohol burning through her system, she’d be walking with more grace. Or she would have stayed away from the train track entirely.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 09.05.2013 @ 10:14 pm

ravenous

They flocked to her body faster than I’d expected. Their beaks snapped, tearing into still-warm flesh. I turned away.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 09.03.2013 @ 10:04 pm

welt

A red mark caught his attention. He raised his arm to study the injury. Was it from his fall? No, he’d slid on his other side. This was from her, he remembered, from her frustrated attempts to move his arm during their last sparring match.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 09.01.2013 @ 10:04 pm

wilting

She was wilting. Not at all what I expected. Instead of the lovely flower of youth, what I was introduced to was a wrinkled, faded woman.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.31.2013 @ 1:03 pm

narrative

The blank screen stared at her. A former friend, once offering daily opportunities to explore together, to play together, it was now hostile. They no longer understood each other–the writer and her medium were estranged.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.24.2013 @ 8:56 am

footage

Twenty by fifteen, he guessed. It wasn’t a tiny room, but he’d lived between the walls for so long that they might as well have been the block walls of a prison cell. Well furnished but overly familiar, dead to the imagination, and exhausted of potential. At least without a change in his mind first.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.25.2013 @ 7:19 pm

beckoning

Waves crash, that’s what most people say. But they rarely do. Most of the time they beckon, or salute, or threaten as if a bajillion Jewish uncles are raising their fists in a curse.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.12.2013 @ 10:03 pm

distress

Miss Di Samantha Tress
wore a delightful dress,
catching light in the sun.
Reflections are great fun,
she says to the boy–
never one who’s coy.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.11.2013 @ 8:21 pm

sundried

An orange dress, yellow spots like sun-dried white grapes scattered near the bottom, flickered into view. I glanced up to see my cousin jut out her cotton-sashed waist against a fist. With a frown, she asked what in the *world* could I be doing?

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.08.2013 @ 10:06 pm

sons

Sons of sons of sons of daughters. Daughters of sons. Children of destiny. Too much family weighing him down. The only way to escape under the crushing pressure, the immense mountain of familial expectation, was to run, run, sprint, fly through the forest, over layers of the past.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.09.2013 @ 8:41 pm

based

Rockets sing through their deadly dance, dropping into stone walls for their finales. I shut my eyes, tight tight tightly enough so that I see colors in the darkness behind my eyelids, and pray that I’m not chosen as the rockets’ dance partner.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.06.2013 @ 9:43 pm

clamp

Clamp down on the surging emotion, the piercing heat deep inside of the gut where a storm is surely forming. Blow away the thoughts before they catch up sanity.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 08.03.2013 @ 9:26 pm

irreverent

My name is Reverend Iris Rowler. And I am not a feminist.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 07.23.2013 @ 7:28 pm

shells

“See shells, she sells, on the sea shore.” He murmed to himself all along the shoreline. Waves caressed their feet, sometime crashing past her weak ankles so that she swerved into his lean body.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 06.19.2013 @ 8:45 pm

sleeved

Kimono sleeves draped over slender arms, once uncovered to show the white skin warmed with trusting passion. Now one arm ends with a ladle raised high to strike.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 06.15.2013 @ 10:08 pm

neon

Electric thoughts, wonderfully bright and uncomfortable when studied too closely. Or, fantastic colors of imagination.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 05.29.2013 @ 9:31 pm

delve

Into the blue water, dark as a twilight sky before the stars awaken, she sank, sank, drifted into a memory of salty fingers brushing her lips in goodbye.

» Posted By Ann M. Lynn On 05.27.2013 @ 8:34 pm

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