You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

BEYOND THE MEADOW

John glanced up from his book and noticed the brilliant sunlight flooding through his tiny cabin window, highlighting the texture of the roughly hewn plank floor. He poked at the dying fire and closed the door of the cast-iron stove. He pulled on boots and slid into his lightweight jacket before stepping out of his mountain cabin for a walk in the refreshing cool air and warming sunlight of the morning. He had noticed a game trail on the far side of the clearing in which his cabin stood. Curious about where it would lead, he entered the forest there to follow it. The hooves of elk and deer had pulverized a path through moss and fallen leaves of the old-growth forest. He walked where only game had gone before, through a cathedral of timber columns, the sun followed him. Occasionally, a beam of sun light would make its way through the tall trees to sparkle on the delicate green leaves of a maiden hair fern, and further on, to ignite the orange and yellow autumn leaves of a vine maple. After walking for about an hour, he came upon a meadow. The morning sun shone brightly over the jagged tops of the surrounding fir forest. A stream, from the mountains beyond, had been dammed by beaver. It formed a clear pond at the center of the meadow. Near the pond, scrub willow and cattails grew. He was drawn toward the pond through faded yellow flowers and low grasses. He paused, surprised by the sudden flight of a red-winged blackbird flushed from the cattails. He watched, admiring the sunlit flashes of red accentuating the urgency of the bird’s flight. Turning again to the pond and the place from which the bird had flown, he noticed movement. Focusing on that spot, he thought he saw, yes, it was the long hair of a woman. Hair the color of autumn cattails before they are blown away in the winds of winter. She gradually emerged from the dense cover of taller plants near the pond. She was moving toward him. He could see her lovely face now. She was looking straight at him but not acknowledging his existence. The cat tails are shorter away from the pond, so as she moved through them, he could see her shoulders. Then her torso became visible. She was naked except for a gossamer blue-green shawl, which was casually cast over one shoulder and across her chest, revealing one perfectly shaped breast. Then he could see her slender waist and the elegant curvature of her hips, All were clearly visible to him now. He felt faint at seeing such perfect beauty. As she moved closer, her features seemed to blur. He stood transfixed. Her movement was smooth, as if she were gliding. She continued to come directly toward him, and as she did, her face and body became less distinct. The closer she came, the more nebulous her image became. He could no longer make out the features of her beautiful face nor the elegant shape of her body. She was rather like a puff of smoke, the color of sun-tanned skin drifting under a blue-green haze. The fog, which was her, enveloped him. He shuddered as he felt a gentle embrace. Then it was gone. He turned to follow its course. Looking across the meadow toward the forest, at first he saw nothing, but then he saw it, a faint wisp, like a small sunset cloud, light tan and blue-green, floating up into the bows of the conifer forest beyond the meadow.