Author Archives: Daniel L. Williams


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Aunt Graeme

It is in a summery spot in a grassy meadow where Aunt Graeme sits. The place doesn’t exist, but is more of a metaphor.

The grass vibrates with pre-summer life, the season right between the temperate spring and the hot summer. The light yaws through the sky’s expanse, somehow brilliant but not hot enough to burn. There are trees and skillfully crafted and shaped leaves in voluminous clouds of branches. The light filters perfectly through the effervescent air. A figure sits at the foot of one of the trees.

Aunt Graeme knows the figure and is pleased with it. The soreness of her experiences gone, she is able to express herself as a pure entity rather than a static vessel. The figure is looking at her. She looks back and is suddenly closer.

The figure talks to her without sound. The birds and flowers respond into a surrounding cloud of tiny peaceful noise and vigor in the background. The low curdle of the figure’s voice is neither terse nor vague. It kind of fills the veins of her mind.

The sun sets slowly in a faster manner than what could be considered worldly – the deer come out and the night animals replace the birds and flowers. The figure sits closely, their existence interchanging.

The low reflection of an imagined campfire is all around. The smell of peaceful cinders is far off, like the life of the grass underneath the two. The sun attempts rising again, the romanticism of the night replaced with the awakening moisture of dawn.

The figure whispers more and Aunt Graeme whispers back, more telepathically than physical. More imagined than real, but still very much present.

It is good for the two. The rains come and new life keeps happening. The smell of the days and nights keep repeating, so perfect that it could make Aunt Graeme’s eyes leak tears so pure they pearl to the ground rather than fall errantly.

The summer breeze kicks up reminders of the cyclical seasons, and Aunt Graeme relaxes. The sun warms her skin in an incredible way. She is looking at the sky move, the figure’s shape in front of it. The figure fades off into the edges, and Aunt Graeme closes her eyes.

All is good.


Hold it Right There!!


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