Saturday, 14 June 2014


Edward DelRay was the last of the DelRays that there would ever be.

Prove it he told himself.

He had burned the last of his books that afternoon and inhaled the smoke of his imagination as he watched the fire.   Now he took his melancholy out the back door and stood silently in the garden where a thousand lifeless stems grew, each one marking a future he had buried.

He was silent and unmoving but he screamed nonetheless.

Beneath the ground each strangled dream held its neighbour’s hand and smiled, writhing toward the surface and a reunion rich with potential.

(in response to a prompt from Light and Shade Challenge ("Prove it") and Studio30Plus ("He took his melancholy out the back door)


  1. Awaiting a thousand tiny phoenixes...

    Love it!

    1. Thanks Joe - I think Phoenixes would be optimistic

  2. This was very intense. It felt like I was holding by breath the whole time I was reading.

  3. I enjoy your intensity! "inhaled the smoke of his imagination ..."

  4. Every time I read a post from you I am impressed with the images you paint through your words.

    The passion comes through intensely in this one.

  5. The hopelessness of the end. Very moving. Nicely done.

  6. I held my own breath. I loved the line about inhaling his own imagination. It was so powerful, it stung going down.