The Unicorn Tree

She could see in the library from the stairs and realized she was looking directly at Mirabelle’s portrait. It wasn’t her imagination. Mirabelle was watching her.

She stopped suddenly, her legs unable to continue up the stairs. Her hand tightened around the banister as she tried to steady herself. She wanted to turn away, but Mirabelle’s eyes silently held her gaze with an insistence impossible to ignore.

The Unicorn Tree by Cynthia Collins © 2018

It was difficult for her to go to sleep. She kept thinking about towering waves rushing toward a ship. At last, sleep came but it was not a peaceful sleep. Her restless dreams started out in storm-tossed seas with Cape Horn looming through the clouds. The scene changed to being caught in a hurricane, then back to Cape Horn, repeating this pattern several times. She wanted to wake up but couldn’t. The sea pounded the ship, insisting on having its way. When she awoke the next morning, she was exhausted.

The Unicorn Tree by Cynthia Collins © 2018

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A Lazy Day Anthology – 1

Edith Kermuttle sat on the edge of the bed and gently pried open the slats of her Venetian blinds with her thumb and index finger. Her purpose, she reasoned, was to get a better view of the goings-on in her neighbor’s yard. She knew exactly how much to widen her lookout without causing any unnecessary attention. There they were, Jim and Linda, a man and woman in their early thirties, slowly pacing along the property line where their yard met hers, taking a few steps, stopping and patting the ground, over and over again. The couple’s two small boys followed them.

No privacy fence or tree line separated the two yards. Edie, as she preferred to be called, leaned forward, stretching her neck, determined to take in every detail. After all, she took her responsibility as part of the “neighborhood watch” very seriously.

— “The Grass Patters” by Cynthia Collins, from A Lazy Day Anthology -1 © 2018

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© 2018 Cynthia Collins. All rights reserved.