Evonka's Secret World

By evonka50 - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Fiction

Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Battle of the sexes - Chapter I

Ask a man for a finger, and he will gladly give you his whole hand. She enjoys engaging your intellect, while enraging the animal in you–simultaneously. And if you stand on a pedestal of self-righteousness, that much better for her, for your fall will be long and hard–the way she likes it. Why she... Sign in to see full entry.

Monday, May 24, 2004

Now that you are gone.

Where are you mama? Now that your body is gone, where can I find you? I loved you differently when you were alive. My love was felt from the heart as it radiated from the center of it into my arms, down to my hands and then finally formed into a loving embrace of your body. Now that you are gone, my... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, May 22, 2004

WEAVING MAGIC

There is fire within me, burning, begging to be released.....stored energy, ancient and new, like a hurricane.......in the eye of the storm....a vessel struggling through the giant waves... I hear a voice.....my own.........I must survive. In his mind......weaving magic....lighting candles,... Sign in to see full entry.

The Guardians

My name is Tamarind. I was named after the tropical Tamarind tree, known for its sour-sweet pod fruit, which is believed to have powerful healing powers. I’d like to think, that I was given that name to represent the purpose of my existence and that is to heal, nourish and protect, just as the... Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, May 21, 2004

All Souls Day - 1962 - a true story

A little girl stands at the cemetery’s open iron gate. Her bright red winter coat is offset with white fur at the collar and sleeves. Several short blond curls escape from underneath her white, knitted cap. She sticks out her tongue and waits for a snow flake to land on it. It does. She closes her... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, May 20, 2004

Animal Instinct

In the world of Angels the beast never sleeps. The echoes of his lustful howls skim the surface of the lake as he creeps through the early morning mist in search of fresh meat. He sniffs under the skirts of underbrush, his snout close to the ground, his long pointed tongue curling around every twig.... Sign in to see full entry.

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