Wirewolf, oh thank you for putting your stories up. It's been a while since I could read thru one, but oh you had me from the start with this one.....

"The sun was raising it's cloud streaked face over the far hills. Birds were singing in the graveyard, telling the spirits it was time to rest."

Oh that is BEAUTIFUL! Wirewolf...I haven't even gotten past that and onto the rest of the story and already I want to say how wonderful of a writer you are. Ok...gonna try to read on now....

GAH! I only made it past a few more sentences!

"Dew beaded along its petals, making it look as though it were crying, shedding tears for the loss of her beloved."

GODDAM Wirewolf!!!! You need to be published. You have this tremendous ablility to provide imagery. You really do. I'll tell you something, in all my years that people have given me stories to read NONE have ever come to the point that you are at. None. Oh there are some that are good and accomplish what they're supposed to do, but seriously, you - are - a - writer.

There are many more wonderful lines in this, Wirewolf, so many.....I think this is so profound, "The idea of her mate having left her for some fabled place of peace and beauty could not console her."

Gods this is amazing *reading and crying*...I don't know what else to say...but tears are falling so easily. Oh you're good *chuckles, a bit embarassed*

Gah....*hugs you* keep up the beautiful work. Never let that escape you.

I think you and I, Grrr, are of a kind. Powerful images that resonate with us move us to feel things with little reservation. So it went with the title of this piece. It was chosen decades before I wrote it.

On Sesame Street (yes, you read that right) there was a vignette that played rarely. It was a soft classical guitar piece beautifully wed to a short film of a single flower blooming in a clay flowerpot on an urban windowsill. The camera practically caressed the bloom (a simple daisy, I believe), travelling up and down it's dewy stalk and especially its wet petals. As a single drop fell from its damp face, I realized the flower was crying. The force of that idea hit me so hard that I had tears on my face as well. And this was as a child of 10 or so.

So yeah, this was an image that held special meaning to me and when I wrote this, I knew in my heart what I had to call it and that a certain image would have to be included.

Thanks for your wonderfully kind words! They mean a great deal to me!

*snugs*

Wirewolf

As wonderful as the other stories of yours I have read.

May I have permission to add it to your collection on the Bookshelf?

Certainly. It was posted once, on the f.s.m newsgroup years ago as self applied therapy. Since then, I've kept it pretty much to myself. Now that I'm spreading my stuff to new sites I'm willing to put this one out with the others.

Thanks for responding!

The crying flower is a very powerful image for a very emotionally driven story. What I like so much about your writing, is you don't add in a bunch of unnecessary words and information. Your stories are very concise and to the point, and they feel so much stronger because of it. It shows how polished you are as a writer.

Thank you. Though to be honest, I don't know how polished I am anymore. I'm badly out of practice.

You may be out of practice, but you have that "natural" skill. And that never goes away.