1960s Summer Holiday


1960s summer holiday. Marriage failing. But a captivating thing next door. Knocking, waiting. ‘Hello, I’m …’ World-moving smile, a face with stories. ‘Hello.’ A hesitation. ‘Would you like to come in?’ Threshold crossed; soft words and lingering gazes. Later, a kiss. Later, even more. In the mirror, they watch each other, and discover their place in the no-gender world.

(Start with a #sixwordstory; then expand into a #sixtywordstory)


*Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net


In the sky. Not a plane.

In the sky. Not a plane.

I saw it with my own eyes, coming down, whirling. I ran, not away from it, but towards. From it grew a mammoth garden; flowers and vines, trees and roots. I built a house there of stone, and lived under leaves, until a great wind came and blew the world away.


(Start with a #sixwordstory; then expand into a #sixtywordstory)

*Image courtesy of photoexplorer at FreeDigitalPhotos.net