Scribes Valley Publishing
Her eyes, barely open now, glistened as she stared through the window.
John was walking through the blizzard to the farm house they had spent so many years in together.
Her children knelt beside her quickly to hear Esther's first words in two days as the youngest, Sarah, took her by the hand.
"That's right Mom." She looked down as she spoke through the lump in her throat. "It's Dad." Her voice breaking through the sobs in the room. "Follow him."
Tears rolled down her face as she leaned forward to kiss her mother.
"Goodbye."
by Cassie Staszkiewicz, East Alton, IL"Esther," a whisper.
Opening her eyes to look around, Esther saw no one.
Snowflakes twirled across the porch.
"Esther," louder this time.
Esther rocked forward to move toward the porch railing.
"Esther."
The yard looked like it was covered by a huge down comforter. As if a snow globe had been shaken, thick flakes suddenly whirled around like a blizzard of goose feathers.
A paintbrush emerged, held by elegant blue fingers. A spritely fellow danced out of the flurry.
"Jack Frost! You're back! Oh, I've missed you this winter!"
He smiled. "It s good to be back, my Esther Bunny."
by Ric Hardson, USAYep, floored it, right out the garage door!
To surprise her, Davy had souped up his mom's old family rocker with mini-jets, touch pad steering, and a very cushy surround sound headrest.
It was Esther's favorite Christmas present.
This displeased Franklin, her twenty-two year old lap cat. Esther had adopted him the year before Davy was born. Franklin preferred basking in a warm, gently rocking lap. Icy blasts racing through his mangy fur was NOT Franklin's idea of fun.
The Rocker-Rocket, as Davy had dubbed it, tore across the pristine expanse of snow, rounded a white-blanketed pine tree, then raced back toward Esther's garage.
Franklin dug in his claws, hanging on for dear life.
Esther screamed like a roller-coaster junkie.
The garage door was no longer open!
by Daphne Rice, Portland, ORGone was the snow.
Gone were the fields, the rolling fields.
Instead there was sand, black sand. A beach. Hot sun. Blinding reflections on the aqua waters and in the foaming waves.
Oh, she loved the sand, the hot sand, the beach and the sun.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in her rocking chair. She was a small girl again -- in Russia. It was Christmas. There were the rolling and snow-covered fields. She could have them at Christmas, even in New Zealand where it was summer in December. She just had to close her eyes.....
by Carolyn Ann Aish, Inglewood, New Zealand