Legacy Stories

Dreams rise from the deep – dreams of forgotten treasure buried in hollows of shadow and silence, where the glint of gold calls out to the light like a dying star. Hope, delicate yet insistent, reaches with embroidered fingers to press against the drumbeat of my heart. I draw breath – not merely air, but awakening, slow, primal, and shattering in its release. A resurrection. A flickering vision. A single, dark eye widenin...

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.The steam curls in the downlit beam like the fingers of cigarette smoke crawling their way into virgin lungs;Like your lies crawled their way underneath my skin;Like your venom crawled its way into my heart.The motes of moisture push against each other like unruly teenagers in an ugly playground;Like your words pushed my thought...

I think there must be a million birds Outside my window today Urgently squeaking and squalling and calling Like they have something salient to say My brief experiences with these creatures Have always been the same Move within five feet of them And they scuttle and fly away; But not today Noisy rabblerousing by the children next door Should cause the skittish critters alarm Yet they lackadaisically amble under the shade o...

Every day in the summer People flock to The swimming hole To hang out with family And friends. All of the kids Populate the area And have fun. Jumping off the tire swing And diving into the pond Laughing and telling jokes Until one day A kid got hurt And another one drowned. The swimming hole Got shut down, Depriving the children Of a summer At the legendary Swimming hole.

Lasting Legacy Looking up the word legacy: Something, From the past associated with. That is handed down or remains. From a previous generation or time. That is outdated or discontinued. Do I have a legacy, Never anything concrete. Have I done anything? Important enough, no. Not a lasting legacy. Of my accomplishments, Nothing stands out or screams. You have done this, To prove you were here. Not a lasting legacy. Thought...

"Hello Taya have you been waiting for me?" Said Stree hugging the tall and elegant Kinnar from behind. Yakha was the third gender. Stree affectionately called him Taya. He/she was both a parent, mentor and bodyguard all rolled into one for Stree. Yaksha was the one who had protected and brought her up like her/his own child and was one of her most loved ‘person on planet earth’ in her own words and everybody around Stree...