Drabble Wednesday: Moments in Time

Another Drabble Wednesday, and some moments of introspection.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Butterflies and the Moon

The evening blossomed into silver starshine against an indigo sky, and a soft ivory moon nestled in misty wisps of wandering clouds. Leaves and wings rustled as the floral night breeze spun an arbitrary path through the trees, carrying along the surging golden butterflies of Moss Hollow.

Shimmering dust fell as they flew, a gleaming rain of luminescence glitter, marking the fleeting trail of their journey. Glowing beauty touched the sky with a scintillating kiss, swooping in unison and spreading light within the darkness. They lived a moment in time, bright and bewitching, until they folded their wings into sleep.

Feather Touch

Scattered black plumes settled upon a craggy mountaintop, discarded feathers fallen from the stormy sky. Echoes of caws and raven flight trailed their descent to the resting place of stone and moss. Wind ruffled their edges and a hint of rain stuck to their surface; a promise of damp to come.

Bereft of place and owner, they waited, battered and buried in weather and sediment, a hint of darkness peeking from the detritus of natural order. Until a hand plucked them ascendent, carrying them home to an honoured place, woven into twine, beads, and dreams, a guardian against the night. 


Pitter-pat, soft thrumming against the window pane.

Pitter-pat, dancing tears of the driving rain.

Water running down the glass, iridescent, translucent streaks reflecting a wealth of unspoken screams. A calm face mirrored in the window, never showing the pain, letting the rain cry for her. Fingers splayed, searching for escape, pressed against the hard, cold surface. Ears listening to the rhythm, the echo of her heartbeat, wishing for the serenity within the sound. Yet, she stared, mute, torn, watching the coursing water from the sky.

Pitter-pat, aching, unshed tears beyond the driving rain.

Pitter-pat, soft thrumming against the window pane.

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