[Dewy Feathers]

username + number: Dewy Feathers 998285
name: Victoria
How do they spend a summer evening?:

Victoria sat out on the porch swing. She rocked gently back and forth, looking out into the yard. She had a small little country cottage, where she could see the stars and listen to the cricket symphony every night. Tonight, the crickets were accompanied by the sounds of a barn owl, and the dancing lights of fireflies. This was a perfect way to spend the perfect summer evenings.

68 words. This kalon is positively beautiful.

[kidcandy]

username + number:
name:
How do they spend a summer evening?

res with witch stuff
possibly rituals or collecting herbs?

[kolyakun]

username + number: kolyakun | 154432
name:
How do they spend a summer evening?

[OrangeSocks]

Mark - OrangeSocks

[SpiritX]

username + number: SpiritX 981441
name: Emberglow
How do they spend a summer evening?

Counting Clouds (368 words)

Clouds pass by, and time does too. Varying between all different sizes, they’re small, large, fluffy, streaky ‘n faded. Emberglow would count each cloud to an endless value of no beginning or end. Maybe she’s counted it twice, maybe she’s counted it once. Get distracted by a bunny’s shape and she has to restart. It’s one strange sentiment, counting clouds. We count stars and how they connect like a puzzle piece, but clouds. Clouds are different. There is no puzzle. They’re like paintings. A random splash of colours, coded for something new. They are not patterned, yet each stroke exactly is. What key is there to painting clouds? And what brings them to life? To wish to hold those pure and white and unreachable is an unthinkable and useless wish, but a wish that she desired to have grant.

Clouds speak in words too. They express in colour, in mood, in various ways. A rain cloud could be interpreted sad, but could also be seen as generous to the world. Thunder might be ecstatic, furious, powerful. Nothing hits the same ways as clouds. This is their language. They’re social too. Always passing in large groups, tiny collections, but on the saddest days are the cloudless nights. Where their blessing is gone, and all is left is their empty traces. Emberglow does not like these days, these days where she cannot admire the wonders of clouds.

When skies are empty, lonely, the flowers must do. Gazing at their colourful rhythm, they speak in songs. Fireflies twist and turn in the air gracefully, guiding the path, dancing their dance of the night in the songs of the flowers. Laying in the grass and watching the performance with her very own eyes is a blessing, nature’s true gift. A special sighting. When flowers wilt and fireflies no longer glow, the process of growth repeats as they prepare, yet again, for their next show.

As the sun sets, the glimpse of stars fall across the sky. This was the last of it, the last of the day. The mark of the night. Emberglow makes her leave, as she shall watch it all over again, day after day, with no end. Goodnight, World.

[LemonBunny]

username + number: LemonBunny #42650
name: Sylvia
How do they spend a summer evening?: Sylvia sat outside in her garden, her glass of sweet tea now almost empty, the sun crept down behind the misty mountains and cool hills around her forest cottage.

She smiled as she returned inside for just a moment to slip on a warm jacket and grab a jar, then she waited patiently until she saw the faint glow of fireflies filling the yard.

She chuckled softly as she guided the first one into the jar, watching it blink slowly as it crawled over her paw and into the purple tinted jar, crawling around to explore.

Then another joined. Then another.

Sylvia twirled and hummed as she danced through the yard, catching fireflies left and right, the puffball dandelions beneath her feet blowing away with her worries and cares.

When her jar was full, Sylvia sat with it for a moment, thinking up her biggest and bestest wish yet.

"And this one will be the strongest," she thought, "because the moon is full."

And with that, she uncapped the jar and let them all fly out, whispering her wish into the cool breeze.

"I wish for my friends to have a wonderful summer."

The fireflies poured out, all but the first one, which blinked once more and then flew out slowly, hovering in front of her face before zipping away.

The rest of Sylvia's evening was spent gazing up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle brightly with her wish amongst them somewhere, then when it got late, she headed inside and curled up in bed, where her sun-drenched head could find whimsical, peaceful sleep.

(265 words)

[Guest]

-

[Griff]

username + number: Griff 254592
name: Isabella
How do they spend a summer evening?

On a clear night, Isa finds that she likes to find a field filled with flowers and grass. There she likes to plop down into it, allow her gaze to go upwards, and simply watch the stars. Naming each, finding the constellations, making new ones... she absolutely can be lost for hours! If any creatures are singing, she might sing with them. If she gets too hot, she will find the nearest creek and roll around in there for a time before floating on her back and returning to the stars.

[Marsh]

username + number: Marsh #224926
name: Elinor

"Enjoy your stay, I hope you like your room!"

With a glance to check the papers were in order, Elinor picked up her faded hardback, made her way to the lounge and folded herself up to read in her favourite armchair by the window. It was oxblood leather, a mid-century design cracked with age. Above her the pale floral draperies swung in the evening breeze, the windows inviting in a pink and gold light which gave the lounge its characteristic seaside charm.

Elinor had read around thirty pages before her attention was drawn away by a man, one of the guests who'd checked in earlier, wandering into the lounge. She slipped her index finger between the pages to prevent her place being lost and let the book fall shut as she watched him. The man took in the room, eyes combing over the details: quaint bookcases, tall windows, armchairs, window seat, round footed table.

When he finally looked at her he asked: "can you recommend any hiking trails around here?" Elinor glanced down at her book to make a note of the page - 291 - before shelving it behind the armchair. "Come, let's walk," Elinor offered warmly.

She led the guest - McCarthy she thought his name was - along the cliffside promenade, then around the back of the property to the nearest farm's wheat field. A path worn down the middle approached the widest part of the bay, halfway around a circle from the B&B nestled in the Scottish cliffs, from which they could see the most colourful point of the evening sunset. They were different every day, something she loved about this place. This time the sky was awash with oranges and bright coral, the deep blue at the top of the sky chasing the colour down to the horizon. A seagull chuckled in the pleasant silence as the pair ambled through the wheat field, the words between them swallowed by the sunset over the bay.

"This is a beautiful place you've got here," he mused taken aback at the sight before him.

"It really is," she breathed, always in awe.

[ 350 / 350 ]

[Ucanthandleme]

username + number: Ucanthandleme + 809102
name: Veil
How do they spend a summer evening?

Veil slowly rocked back and forth in the thicket chair, a long stalk of wheat gripped between their lips. They gave a gentle sigh as a cool breeze glided across their face twisting their hair up into the air with it. The simplest moments were bliss they thought as birds began their last chattering rounds for the night and silence slowly descended. A small tap was felt on their shoulder. Slowly opening their eyes they twisted their head to look at the small child, who was nervously twisting their feet with a droopy flower in hand. Seeing Veil open their eyes the child gave a grin, their small eyes crinkling with happiness as they passed over the delicate stem. Veil gave a chuckle and returned a gentle smile as they gave thanks for the flower. Taking the flower from the chubby hands they lifted it up to their nose taking a whiff of the floral scent. Fresh and new, a revitalising smell, if Veil overlooked the roots covered in dirt, this would be a heartfelt moment between them and their nephew.

Putting the flower to the side Veil bent over pulling out a small banjo from their side. Seeing the child's eyes widen Veil held a finger to their mouth indicating to be silent, before gently strumming a tune. The melody twisted and mingled in the air, the sound of the wind only adding to the tune in the air, creating an ethereal sound. The child looked in wonder as note after note flew out from Veil's fingers, the backdrop of the setting sun, flowers gently swaying in the wind, almost swaying in tune to the song, and the long strand of wheat still hanging from Veil’s mouth, all of it came together creating a simple moment of beauty. Finishing the tune Veil put the banjo down, patting the wide eyed child on the head and sending them off, before laying back in the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth. Enjoying the silence of the summer evening.

341/350