One Page Stories

In my busy everyday I miss to sit at the river beach and observe the ripples reach the endless water plane. I miss the company of those who can sign and do everything I cannot bring. I forgot the shine of rubies and emeralds on the pitch-black night canvas. Everyday

After Jenny suffered her heart condition she figured nothing much worse can ever come. How wrong she's been! On every night's end, she now thought: "Will I awake tomorrow?" And as she came about from the worried dreams each day her trust in her

Quietly top-toeing, harboring a smile, more than ready to jump its prey. She springs air still left behind. She lands on four and sixteen with only dirt below. The prey is sneaky, avoidant of its fate. The hunter seeps in the scent hunched with open nostrils. A faint distancing trail

I twist and pull each muscle, fat, and bone to give me what they hold. Swooshing forward at a champion's speed the periphery blurs as I focus on the singular point ahead. A tree (why is it withered?), the top of the hill (what if I trip in

The equilibrium of his choice came crashing down his ego sooner than he anticipated. To his surprise, he felt no less himself. He felt more in power contrary to the obvious expectation when one has to give up power. What he was yet to learn was that he never had

While in the museum tour through the France and Italy I had fallen in love with the crosshatched pencil drawings. Bill admired the immaculate crosshatching of the thousand short lines stitching together a scene imagined a century ago by an untamed dreamer. Bill wasn't a dreamer. Neither was

Early Thursday morning two ships were on a collision course. By the day's end, they were aligned in a perfect parallel. Had one give way to the other and lost its precious time? Were the captains playing a game of chicken which both won? Was it the forceful

On the precipice of the next year, Hilburg had achieved his life-long goal. Twenty-eight rotations around the Sun. That's all it took. Now what? Within life come goals to give it direction. Within the goals comes life to make it a journey. Without a goal, Hilburg was ready

Feelings of the Monastère Notre-Dame de Clémence de La Verne. Graveled stone set inside the mountain bone. Sheltered. Chants storming from the white hoods bring fear to an otherwise peaceful retreat. Yet monks' produce is unthreatening lavender soap and cream. Withered walls reek of centennial dust. As you breathe

Overlooking the seagulls on the golf course in the South of France where I was staying after a friend's wedding. Sandy beaches of Saint Marte were kept by its white-winged groundskeeper. Surprisingly he preferred to walk his keep, thread the soft sawn threads with flappy flat feet. Three