A piccolo story.

I’ve always been magnetized to writing, poetry, and short stories.

Growing up, my mother would read to me. She enchanted me with stories of fiction and fantasy, and coaxed me into the weirdly wonderful world of writing stories.

Finding my mum was always easy.
Checking the soft leather couch, I’d see her snuggled up, a sky-high pile of books within reach, and a paperback held tightly in her gentle hands. Within a blink, she’d be on to the next story. She is why I am, the way I am; a lover of literature, rustling up stories and grand adventures.

I’ve recently fallen back in love with writing again; jotting down poems, stories and remembered dreams. Anything and everything is spilled onto blank pages, in hopes to capture my hundreds of quick dissolving thoughts.

I’ve been working on a quaint short story titled, “Enjoy the Ride”.
In essence, it’s an insight into the quick changing nature of my wild western brain.
I’m wired a little differently; using familiar imagery, I open the door for the reader to step into the walls of my mind.

‘Enjoy the Ride’

My mind is a Merry-Go-Round.
Wild horses endlessly twirl on their spiraling mechanical poles. A golden light reflects into my eyes as I watch them spin, affixed by veiled reigns.
One mare breaks loose!

She’s animated, injected with breath-taking life; a paradoxical entity as her family remain circling lifeless pawns, statue-solid.

I can’t help but stare.. Our eyes lock.
Her eyes are resplendent black diamonds, profoundly gazing at me with zealous awe. As we continue our unspoken messages, I revel in her beauty. Golden horseshoes reflect bright into my eyes, imprinting its polished golden glare into the depths of my retinas.

A silver saddle lays upon her auburn coat, coaxing me. Slowly I slink up to her, reaching out to touch, my fingers are left numbly frigged.
She breathes out a soft oaty-hay sigh.
I see her lips wiggle, the soft edges of her mouth curl in efforts to battle a tickle. Losing, a long pink tongue washes over her lizard blue lips, coating them generously in a layer of sparkling crystal.

No longer frozen stiff, she embraces her agile form; stirring up a dust cloud as she gallops through the abandoned carnival.

Everything becomes still, she’s quiet… almost afraid.

A DASH! An extraordinary surge of energy ERUPTS!

The spinning ladies simultaneously leap! Snapping their weighty metal chains with an echoing CRACK!

The atmosphere changes into a circus-like affair.
A wild cacophony of hooves fills the air, and chaff scented snorts flood my lungs. The bands galloping energy, bounces off the shivering pebbles delving deep through my ear canals.
I’m vibrating; life all around is fully animated.

The mare leading the herd shines with iridescence, a beckoning force of burning luster. Tracing her, my attention is struck by diamond eyes, as they glint in the last of the Suns glow. Hitting the horizon, a trifecta of untamed colours beam high, forcing prisms of colour onto the dark blanket above.

As I direct my gaze upwards, the lingering few cotton ball clouds are lit on fire, undefinable forces sending a clear message.

All of this fleeting movement, the paradoxical harsh and soft sounds, full spectrum of awesome light… spinning, absorb one another, sloppily melding together like Sunday morning banana pancakes, I’m bombarded, I’m pulled and stretched towards a vortex of chaos.
Forced… falling into an avalanche, complete sensory overload… of a sparkling brilliance… of…


It’s all… just… GONE? In a violent flash, a single blink, a dreamed up moment.
… All the forceful action engulfing me; beyond beautiful mares, colourful vibrancy… has… vanished.

Hearing music, I turn to see the abandoned Merry-Go-Round spinning with its empty golden poles… And I jump on, letting it take me to the next moment in my mind.

Until next time,

Zoe xo

One thought on “A piccolo story.

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