http://slow.writerscafe.org/fiddleafiggle The original writings of author Luna Evangeline en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776013764 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The hole that I wake up in is deeperthan I am tall, but impossibly narrow. I wake slumped against one side, richblack earth crumbling into my hair. I move groggily, my joints groaning as ifI’d been sleeping for days. I wait for the rush of memories, wait.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1280573/ She wakes alone in foreign land, with no memories of who she is. She has no possessions, except a blank journal with the heading: WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN. And there's a note: YOUR TRIAL BEGINS NOW. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1280569/ There's an old rocker by the window with limp, flattened cushions where I may sit for hours upon end. It was a sort of sin for me to do this, since in my head I was constantly reminding myself of the chores to be done. Yes, there were always things to do. But in that rocker those things were not wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1216429/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1216424/ Fingers sweep along a trembling thigh,A sudden whisper of a flame setting my soul on fireSatiny hips underneath a gentleman's rough-skinned handsQuakingA flower in the windRocking Riding stormy wavesA connection like no other, an unlucky woman finding her peace,A blessing that Fate slipped into.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1208188/ RAINBOWDazzling displayGlowing, ascending,hypnotizingVibrant as the sunCRESCENT  GHOSTSpirit astraySighing, mourning,lingeringElusive as a forgottenmemoryPOLTERGEIST  SUMMERSweltering oasisBaking, relaxing,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1208170/ “Getout of my house, you damned woman, and don’t come back!”            This was the cry that drove MargaretEdwards from her own home on the night of June 4th, 1934. Even aftershe had darted out of that door, with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1206884/ English translations off to the side. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1178524/ Someone knows Amy's secret. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1178474/ He's just a person who finds happiness in nothing but hopeand escapes the clutches of poverty with nightly dreams. He's just a fighter who is content to wait at the intersectionfor a spare bit of change that he knows will never come. He's just a child, stubby fingers caked in grimebru.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1177692/ Amy O'Connor finds that she's willing to murder anyone for three million dollars... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1177676/ Like a  drained bottle,  her soul is empty. Tosoothe her singed nerves, only one thing belongsinside.   In her  nightly dreams,  it  rains, fast and hard like a mighty thunderstorm. The onlydifference? It rains red, the color of young r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1175381/ Hopefully this one is a tad better to view. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1175374/  The doors to the Emergency Room swingopen and crash into the nondescript tile walls. Entering through them is astately man, by the name of Duke, cradling a lovely but lifeless woman. He isdressed in pressed black pants and a spotless white button-up shirt; his coatis draped acr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1174819/  He moves, his bones dancing in the heart of spirit, moves like he simplyknew not that he was just so graceful, a complete symphonypowered by his passion of life and spiced by hisunintentional wit which fires his tongue into turmoil.  His every .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1174731/ Breathe.            My chest rises and falls with each tremblinggust of air dragged into my lungs. The announcer’s voice, warbled and illegiblethrough the speakers, pounds in my ears. Sweat pastes the clinging nylon of myunif.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1174256/ It’s a funny thing,the feeling aftersomeone has died. It’s a peculiaremptiness,a hole that is firstfilled to the brim with doubtand later justdrained intonothing. Everything is hollow,echoing,and cold.So cold. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1174175/ ButterflyDelicateand gentle gem against the skyFlutteringoff to somewhere newBeatyour wings against the autumn windThatgrows colder with every passing dayTakeoff and never landBeforeyou freeze in the night frostYou’llbe stuck hereInthe icy cl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/fiddleafiggle/1174123/