The books of May are here—fresh, fierce, and full of feels.

Audrey Lawrence

Features & Posts

The hot melting kiss
February 15, 2008

2 comments posted.

Re: Whisper of Warning (8:48pm January 25, 2009):

Sparkling like new fallen snow in the starfilled night, this contest is the answer to my heart's desire. Thanks somuch for holding it and to freshfiction for such a glistening treasury of info on books to read!

Re: Secrets In Four Corners (8:59am January 16, 2009):

Your story sounds really intriguing. I look forward to reading more.

Here is mine...

When my mother was five, she found a little man who was about a foot tall with a damaged leg. He was lying in a nearby hay field on the farm where my mother grew up and she decided to carry him home and get help for him. Her little brother walked along with her and kept insisting that he also wanted a chance to carry this extraordinary little man clothed in a leafgreen suit. My mother finally relented and reached down to give him to her brother. But, in the moment of transfer, the wee man jumped from her brother’s little fingers and disappeared in the long grass never to be seen again.

This is the story I remember the most from my mother as a young child and I would spend countless days wandering in meadows and woods to see if I also could find tiny people and building little houses from leaves and twigs for them to enjoy. If she warned me about bogeymen or of dangers that could happen, they didn’t make an impact on my mind as I certainly don’t recall. I just remember a stern warning never to be late for supper and not to go beyond certain boundaries.

But, one hot summer day, when I was six and my sister four, I was drawn to the cool pool of green water in an old quarry that laid well beyond our usual boundaries. We just wanted to dip our toes in and maybe slash a bit. It was refreshing and fun until tall shadows blocked our view. It was a gang of teenagers who didn’t want two little white kids in their turf.

They forced us deeper and deeper into the water until my feet couldn’t touch water and then they keep pushing my head under and holding me down till I couldn’t breathe. Then, a shout and my head bobbed up. I saw my mother, but her white blouse was torn and covered in red stains. Then, I was pushed under again.

After that, I just have a brief flash of memory of a policeman giving me a beautiful colouring book and a fresh pack of 16 Crayola crayons