Story Time

We start out life by having stories read to us. We find that we can enter these stories, and live in their world for as long as we choose. But, in the end, we have to come back to our own world. Then we start school, and we start to hear the stories of others. Fascinating stories. We each become a part of the periphery of each others world. As we get a bit older, we learn that our stories define us. We become adept at telling the same story to different people, in different ways, so that they will see us as we want to be seen. Same stories, just narrated differently. And then we get to the point where we drop “appearances”, and allow our authentic story to be told. It is what it is, and it is ever evolving.

(c) April 2021 Bonnie Cehovet

Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

In The Dead Of The Night

Flash Fiction

I love walking in the dead of the night. As a kid, in our neighborhood it was perfectly safe to do so . Now, of course, times have changed. But I still love walking in areas that are well lit, late at night.  It is quiet, and I can think.

Walking by the houses, one imagines the stories that they have to tell. The streetlights, the trees, the well tended yards – they are all part of the story.

Past, present, and future become one in the gateway of night. We write, and rewrite, our stories. Choose your ending wisely, my friend!

(c) August 2017 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.