Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

A Spring Evening

I sit in the newly-grown shade of an old maple tree, squinting as the sinking evening sun shines over the rooftop of a stark, gray, stone building. Its golden rays graze the red clay-tile roof and slant past the grayish-brown bark of the gnarled trunk of the maple to spear my sun-deprived eyes. The fiery light holds no warmth as the heated brilliance of late afternoon fades into cool dusk. I delay donning my long, black sweater for as long as I can endure, but the chill of the soft breeze eventually overcomes my stubborn resistance. In the distance, the clear tone of a church bell rings out the passing hour. I gaze across the verdant, young grass, speckled with the emphatic yellow and woolly white of bold dandelions and the majestic purple of shy, nearly-hidden violets. My eye wanders to the newly-budded, half-grown leaves on the branches spread above my head. Behind them the topaz blue sky sprawls in silken grace, as it blends to a faintly-tinted white against tree-covered hills. A royal blue wing flits past, coupled with a rusty orange breast, and a blue bird alights on a thin, nearby branch covered in delicate, pink blossoms, which transform an ordinary tree into a fairyland wonder. Only the youth of freshly-arrived spring carries with it such a profusion of vivid, enrapturing color.

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