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    Ten Tiny Tales
    Ten Tiny Tales
    Ten Tiny Tales
    Ebook20 pages13 minutes

    Ten Tiny Tales

    By Heath Rezabek

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    bees

    I remember you saying that you were haunted by the buzzing of bees.

    You knew the hives were long gone, the wood that had made them now junked and broken in the hollow, along with radiators and refrigerators and, somehow, a tractor; and when our searches turned up nothing, you insisted we build another.

    I labored for weeks, and when the boxes were formed, you whitewashed them with a recipe learned from mother's mother. Standing to one side, watching you there flinging the brush at the walls of this thing as if it were a wild wolf you hoped to tame, I couldn't help but wonder where you would get the bees, and if when they came you would find in them the solace that you sought.

    But the bees came and came. And the next season, we had honey, bursting the combs; and even through the canning, and even through long evenings when we both had grown sick of the sweetness of honey, you would pause and look up through screen doors, as if listening for a bell that I could never hear.

    I am haunted by your hunger, for honey and its combs.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHeath Rezabek
    Release dateApr 2, 2010
    ISBN9781452379647
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      Book preview

      Ten Tiny Tales - Heath Rezabek

      Ten Tiny Tales

      + 25 Bonus Dreams

      by

      Heath Rezabek

      - - - -

      First Edition

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright © 2010 Heath Rezabek

      All rights reserved

      = = = =

      Ten Tiny Tales

      - - - -

      the beach alone

      We never made it to the coast. Somewhere west of Idaho, we found a run-down farmstead. She approached as if she expected a welcome; I walked behind, humbled, as if I could see in its shape the future.

      We've lived there ever since, though I don't suppose I've ever lost the wish that we had kept on, because both of us had wanted what once lay along a shoreline we never reached.

      But that was both of us.

      And walking the beach alone had never been part of our plans.

      - - - -

      spilling steam

      It was quite a spill. Cascading down in a splashing rivulet, in the moment you had laughed, raising glass high

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