http://slow.writerscafe.org/Sloanezen The original writings of author Sloane Goldflies en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775418548 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A strange little story about a boy and his midnight adventure among the stars. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/802410/ SIX “ There once was a rose.Itlived long before time, and was not a rose as we know it, for it stood as tallas any tree and its petals were the flawless cerulean of a summer sky, withthorns that curved wickedly from its mighty stem. It stood alone at the top ofa m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757974/ This one's pretty long, but there's a lot of dialogue. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757973/ FOUR The plains stretch out in a brown-grey haze beforehim.  Annabelle sleeps fitfully in hisarms, her dreams tormented by all she had seen this day.  The stone man is anxious to keep moving andget as far away as possible from the black column of smoke stretching itsgr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757972/ THREE Soon he begins to come across bodies, fleeingtownsfolk who had met up with scouts or more of the she-mage’s rock giants.  It is easy to see who met whom.  None were spared, the stone man seeing theold and infirm as well as the young and healthy.  Women, me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757971/ TWO As his limbs loosen and become acclimated to life hebegins to eat away the distance separating him from the burningsettlement.  Idly he notices that everyso often a trail of blood will trace his path for a step or two, only to stopand pick up again after a few more feet.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757970/ ONE There is light.  There is air.  He gasps in thisair and opens his eyes to this light and is awake.  At first all he can see is the pale gold ofthe sun, but as his eyes adjust he can discern rough beige stone stained blackwith soot.  There is a large .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757968/ A fantasy story about finding your identity and discovering that what you are born with or as doesn't have to limit what you do with your life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/757966/ College life at it's finest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/512185/ What it was like falling in love http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/451513/ Electricity and firemelting and spinning into oblivion tumbling into places dazzling with the crazed light of a passion tinged with pain the cosmos can't contain. Enough is not a word for now; the stars won"t contain my scream, a great tingling thing that starts in my toes and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/415999/  The sound of falling:a soft breathlike the pale latticeof a dragonfly wingora high and keening wail,the shriek and screamof a tempestrushing past.My voice,my throat so harsh and thick from all the swallowed questionsand candied liesI murmured to myself.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/386827/ Amongst all the talk of spousal/child abuse I've created this. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/386822/ It was a soft sigh,an aching stutterthat sang verses in my bonesand called out to mefrom a place well-known. I knew it from a dream,saw it fluttering,weak and scaredlike a birdtrapped among my ribs. The soft blade of a fingertracing symbols on skinthat spelled o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/295646/  It was a lovely day out: clear, cloudless sky; sweet sun-soaked breeze; faint hum and click of insect song.  Macmillan longed to find a quiet, unoccupied park bench somewhere and sit in comfortable repose until lunchtime.  However, Macmillan had spent so much time appreciating the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Sloanezen/282668/