100-Word Fiction: ‘Ends’

How we think about life when it ends.
The morning streetlight amber, off in an instant.
The geese that fly in and then loop back without warning.
The frosted cars idling by the pavements.
The early fog that lifts slowly above the church tower.
The shock of violas trembling in their pots.
The blackbird that hops off into the thorns.
The branches that fade from green to black.
The accretions of mud at the edge of the path.
The hold that autumn has, though winter must come.
The leaf that will not be shaken.
But it will be shaken, now.

100-Word Fiction: ‘Where Oceans Meet’

At the place where two oceans meet a white foam forms a rough line on the surface. We encounter light and dark, warm and cold.

Outside the hotel room the sky was grey. On the TV the skies were all blue. Microphones were pointed towards a grimacing face. In the corridor, staff brought room service to guests. I washed and changed my shirt.

In the hospital machines were wheeled out. Condolences were offered. At the airport where families rushed in the engines blared.

The correspondent says critical but stable.

I would come to think of this as a sea change.