creative writing short story Uncategorized

Searching For Helena

The sun was scorching hot but as I entered the darkened shadows at the edge of the woods the coolness licked at my skin sending shivers up my spine. I could hear soft whispers ahead of me, behind me, above me. The laughter of the squirrels as they played tag through the trees. The footsteps of the unseen moving away from me as I moved deeper into the abyss. What lay waiting around the next tree? Was it a sweet wild bunny or one of the little people that I was warned about? Were they really dangerous? Perhaps they were only misunderstood.

What was that? A sigh of content? A hushed whisper that was more than the leaves rustling overhead? All the sounds seems eerie and yet beautifully mysterious. The musty smell of the dirt and moss teasing me as I watch a fawn scamper off towards its mother. A woodpecker tapping out a love song somewhere in the distance brings me back to the moment and I remember I’m cold. I’ve wandered without care or attention and I can’t see my way out anymore. I look up, up past the tallest of trees and I realize that the sun is still shining so brightly up there, like a whole different world. A world I am craving now, a warmth I am yearning for.

I open my little wings and fly as high and as fast as they will allow. Up over the pines and past the spruces and as the warm sun brings life to my cold iridescent wings once again, I can go faster and faster until…

I see my cozy little home off in the distance over the meadow and next to an old abandoned house. The little girl built a home for me hundreds of years ago before she was taken by the long-haired stranger in the night. My home is inside the flower pot on her bedroom sill that still holds the key to her diary. I promised I would guard it for life and that I would one day find her to give it back. I still have the key but I can’t find Helena.


creative writing poetry

Apple Blossoms And Thunderstorms

Taken somewhere between Edam and Vawn, Saskatchewan, April 25, 2020
The buds are smiling,
inhale the scent of new life
of apple blossoms

This is the season of new life and new beginnings all around us. The dreary browns and greys are turning vibrant and full of cheery disposition. The crocuses and tulips breaking through the ground to be the first to say hello, good morning, you’re looking beautiful! The birds seem to have new songs and the breezes are softer with whispers of warmer days. The sun smiles brighter as it kisses my skin and reminds me of all the fun planned out for the warmer months.

The rain pounds the ground,
the wind strikes at me angrily
and the harsh thunder roars.

I love a good storm, one so full of anger and energy that the ground shakes with each thunderous growl from the skies. One so loud the pictures shake on the walls, the windows rattle and electricity is so strong it gives you goosebumps. I find them intriguing, erotic, and as calming and romantic as a cup of hot cocoa, a warm blanket and a fire.

I have two days off and I feel so mentally drained I can barely manage to put two words together. This is my attempt to get my mind out of it’s state of numbness. The storm is one that was rolling through on my way home from work on Friday.

creative writing poetry Uncategorized

The Stillness

The streets are covered in fresh fallen snow

The birds are quiet in the cold.

The odd squirrel climbs past my window

and peeks his head in to say hello.

There goes another enormous tom cat,

the branches bending under his weight.

If I stand in the window with my eyes closed

I can be at the lake sitting on the sand.

A Kate Morton book and a cucumber water in hand.

The sun feels so warm and yet there’s no one out.

The streets are empty, the parks are still.

Despite the quiet and hush of the outside world,

My thoughts are excruciatingly loud.

I hope everyone is having a good week 😀 -Ang

creative writing poetry Uncategorized


Your touch cools my skin,

Your scent warms my soul.

The sound of your laugh so soothing,

The whisper of your voice so calming.

Your arrival always welcomed,

Your presence always refreshing.

creative writing poetry

Ode To The Old Apple Tree

Under your branches

Is the perfect seat.

Your colors so bright,

Your smell so sweet.

Picking your fruit

Just feels so right.

My son had 17 poems to do last weekend (acrostic, diamante, couplets, odes, etc…) because he didn’t do them at school when he was supposed to. So he had a lot of work to do and I figured since I was snowed in and couldn’t get to work all weekend, I would do some creative writing and some poems with him. This is one we worked on together 😉 I don’t know about you but I am really missing the warm weather and all that it brings… except the mosquitoes Lol!