Advent Train Stories: Heart Unwrapped

He does little things to amuse himself. Knitting, sewing, even yoga. He does these things to amuse himself but mostly he does them because he is lonely.

There is a photograph on his bedside table of an apple tree. It is burdened with red fruit, yet it holds itself upright proudly. The date on the photo is written on it in permanent marker. 5.10.15.

The day he lost her.

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Passing

Behind her the world rushes past; a cacophony of metallic laughter and electric eyes.

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Night Life

The sun is luminescent overhead. The man is pale, an albino with golden eyes. He dons a broad-brim hat of woven grass. The brim is dyed red. He digs in his pockets for the key to the house; it barely fits because of the rust. The battered door creaks inward. Dust and bottled love make his nostrils flare. Legend sniffs to clear the tears from his eyes . . .

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Growing Up

She watches me with keen eyes hollow with wistfulness. I try to speak to her when I find the courage, but she never answers. I think she is mute. Her silence intimidates me . . .

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The Arcanist

A young girl chooses between toiling over straggling plants or ancient texts in the hopes of reviving her dying world.

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He Has Gentle Hands

A blind boy contemplates the arrival of his newborn sibling without favor based off the whispered experiences of a school bully.

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Room 906

A gentleman but not a gentleman was what Edward always was, given the ‘no smoking’ signs pasted to the ghastly lavender walls.

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