Category: Portraits
Words can paint, each letter, a bristle of a brush. The sentence becomes a stroke. Paragraphs shape objects. A portrait needs no beginning, middle, or end. When we look deep at a painting, we can’t help but wonder why the Mona Lisa smiles. If you look deep enough at portraits, close enough to pick out desire, they jump out of the frame. The frame is the story. Break out! Break out!
Posted on April 17, 2015
by Elan Mudrow
22 Comments
This stream is the coldest my hands have ever touched. If there is a bottom to its shallowness, I can’t find it. The water seems so damned clear, too clear. I think I should be able to see, but I can’t. It must be…
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Category: Flash Fiction, PortraitsTags: Author, Books, Ferns, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Foliage, Forest. Ghosts, Hamlet, Nature, Ophelia, Reading, Rivers, Shakespeare, Streams, Writer, Writing
Posted on March 20, 2015
by Elan Mudrow
30 Comments
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Category: Flash Fiction, Poetry, PortraitsTags: Author, Aztecs, Climate Change, Drought, Mythology, Passion, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Prose, Rain, Religion, Romance, Storm, Writer, Writing
Posted on February 16, 2015
by Elan Mudrow
25 Comments
The snow is blamed, it always is, as mad as you get at it, as mad as it makes me. But, I know, like you do, now, it’s always the rope. The others don’t realize the rope’s properties, as a living thing. They aren’t…
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Category: PortraitsTags: Art, Author, Fiction, Horror, Human Relations, Mountain Climbing, Photography, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Rope, Serial Killers, Sociopath, Trust, Writer, Writing
Posted on February 3, 2015
by Elan Mudrow
23 Comments
I stumbled upon her, hidden behind a large sliding door, within the comfort of darkness, unmoved, silent. Is that possible? She seemed so old, so incredibly old, as if one touch would turn her into dust. And dust was inside, so much earthly…
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Category: Flash Fiction, PortraitsTags: Author, Fiction, Ghost, Hamlet, Literature, Music, Ophelia, Poetry, Prose, Romance, Shakespeare, Short Story, Story, Writer, Writing
Posted on January 23, 2015
by Elan Mudrow
29 Comments
The river– Cold, of a certain depth, certain speed, enough to conceal . Annie had freckles that hid frowns, dusty eyes—unmanageable red hair like wild wires sitting upon a strange round head. Pulling Jessie’s wet wrists, towards the water, hands slipped away. Annie…
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Category: Flash Fiction, PortraitsTags: Burial, Desire, Edgar Allan Poe, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Forest, Love, Murder, Nature, Pagan, Passion, River, Short Story, Snow, Surreal, Witchcraft, Word Pictures
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