I may as well be a dying tree. Dig up the roots and burn my stump. Don't leave seeds behind for something to grow from me to leech off of the land. It's easy to feel like a waste, so if the wood is rotting, you toss it out. If creativity is a river, then the water isn't flowing. I felt this drought coming, never thought it would feel like I'm ending. A few days of intense heat and I'm almost dried up. The clouds seem to be closing the distance, but nature is just teasing a storm, taunting me. It's not a joke anymore. Dark clouds have never been so beautiful. There's hope, there's inspiration, and for the first time in days, there's life.
About the Creator
Shawn Miller
Shawn Miller is a writer from Decatur, IL. Currently residing in Texas, he works on poetry, short stories, and a cartoon. There's no doubt he has aspirations to create work that resonates with people. Even if it isn't very many.
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
BARE HUNTER
CHAPTER 15 I pulled up in front of Sandy’s a little early, so I texted Becca again and left a message for Sharon, hoping she had a good day and I’d see her tomorrow. Two cars pulled into Sandy’s driveway. I don’t know why I was surprised to see another man with her. We’d been apart for two years and I certainly didn’t waste any time getting back on the horse.
By Tina D'Angelo4 days ago in Chapters
The Business of Nature
Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saundersabout 17 hours ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.