Silver Lake: A Short Story

The lake darkens as the ominous clouds race across the sky, as black as the devil’s soul, and swallows the bliss-blue complexion of the sky faster than you can blink. The world has abruptly become cellar-dark and the heavens above look to collapse down upon me. A deafening wind runs over the landscape like a thousand horses, the noise of the raindrops their clattering hoofs. The threatening force of the gales knocks and blows the trees in precarious ways, almost as though, if it had wanted to, the wind could blow them away as if they were but feathers, not heavy pines. Lighting lights up the sky like liquid, golden ore streaks being forged into forks up above. Wriggling and writhing with the pain of their own existence. Flashing once, twice, three times, polished and glossy like the cold prongs of the apocalypse. Shaking myself from my weather-caused trance, I hurry for shelter under a nearby fern tree. Staring deep into the blackness of the storm I wonder whether I will ever see that bliss-blue appearance

Water, glittering, as the sun throws sparks across the creased, sapphire expanse. Flashes of the lullaby of rising and falling waves through the trees. Golden sands shimmering from across the lake. Our soreness melted as we drove into Windhaven, the group of cabins where our family stays during the weeklong annual family reunion. We got out of the car and breathed in the fresh, lake air laced with nonchalance and the feeling and freedom of summer.

The sun was especially bright as it reflected off the water, blinding the trees with the shine. The breeze was strong, but not too strong. Strong enough to blow my hair like an industrial fan would. Birds chirped in the distance, squirrels barked in the treetops, snails moved along the rocks in the river, leaving behind a thin trail of slime. The flowers' fragrances intoxicated me.

As the wind brushed the back of my dress, I turned around to overlook the waves of golden ocean, pouring into the small town I called home. But, my eyes became fixed on the sun. It was so wonderful, so beautiful as it rose out of its slumber in the mountains. I always felt the sun’s warmth on my cloudy white dress, and I loved how it always felt like my father’s hugs.

Casting a rock, she watched as it skipped one, two, three times before slipping below the water’s surface. Overlapping ripples expanded and blurred into tiny crests before washing against the riverbank. Gathering two stones, she ran her hands over them, but dropped them without interest. Since midnight, muddled thoughts had left her with a gnashing migraine that tore open flesh and shook meat from the bone. As before, the murky river held her glare without

Summer break after a long year of tortuous academics, teachers, classes and the gleaming light of the summer just an arm's length away. T. Coraghessan Boyle elaborates on the adventure of the bad boy imagines. Although their deceptions of their characters will be

When I made thirteen years old we had move to Lake Charles Louisiana, my mother had gotten a better job and a new house. Only part I didn’t like was my mother boyfriend move with us to Lake Charles and that I had to make new friends because I didn’t know anyone out there. I started 7th Grade when we move to Lake Charles and I wasn’t happy about it because I had friends in Crowley and didn’t want to move. My first day at Oak Park Middle School I was very quiet because I didn’t know anyone or had family members there. There was this girl name Barbara Thompson who had came sat with me for lunch because I was sitting by myself and she introduce herself to me . I was very happy she came sit with me instead of me sitting alone by myself, then that’s

A single beam of light shone thru the curtain. The specs of dust in the room danced between the rays, whisked into the air by the pleasant breeze tip toeing thru the screen door. I could feel the warmth on my cheek as I rose from the sheets, thoroughly rested. I briskly got ready, slipping on my tennis shoes, old and worn. Stepping outside, I was greeted by the painfully sweet aroma of sweet pea flowers, entranced by the blissful gleams of sunlight, and spellbound by the familiar screeching of parrots, flocking in clouds of bright vermilion.

Let me tell you about the time I got pulled over trying to retrieve a bouncy ball.

On a warm, sunny Texas afternoon I walked through the Southlake strip mall. In the air a pungent odor danced around me. My hand went immediately to my nose, to block out the smell. The sun’s heat came glaring down at me as I shielded my hands in front of my face to keep the ray of light from hurting my sensitive eyes. The clouds seemed to dance across the vibrant blue sky. The pounding of my feet echoed across the

The lights encased in their glass cases were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. They were hanging from dainty looking poles, flowers engraves in the dark metal. My eyes lit up with every look I gave, in every direction I looked, it was the most beautiful place I had ever been in. The path under my feet was made of concrete, but it was the color of the night sky, black with little white stars dotting in every direction. The tall oak trees that seemed to wrap around the path made it seem even more inviting to me. The temperate fall air was blowing against my rounded cheeks, causing small bits of pollen to stick to my dew dusted face. The sound of music was emanating from the building ahead of me, more lights seemed the shine from that

The house looked exactly like Mika’s house: the color, the shape, and even the texture. It was an exact replica.

It was 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday. I wondered, “Why do we have to wake up so early?” Then I remembered.

The sound of trickling rain, and the absence of conversation, permeated the air around us, as both Margaret and I remained stagnant in our positions of choice. My eyes took for Margaret before redirecting themselves along the line of sight that was occupied by hers; and it appeared as though the storm we were enduring was progressing north, and stemmed from the direction that lied behind the outskirts of our village. Rotating my body in surveillance of the sky’s coloration behind me, I took note of the impending clarity that would soon take place, as the colors that signified the sunset were meagerly seeping through the clouds. However, on the other hand, as I swiveled back to my original placement and scanned the skies to the north that rested

The water was a turquoise blue with hints of darker blues. It reminded Piggy of her auntie’s eye shadow. Wind was washing over the sea, creating little ripples in the water and the sun was so strong it was making the lagoon water hot like a bath tub. Piggy watched the dark shadows of palm tree leaves