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Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Dreams

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The Judas tree stands outside my window. It filters the light from the wan sun and in the summer, the leaves act as gels for my room, tinting the golden rays a virulent green, disclosing from the warm light the aspect of freshness and acidity which is otherwise imprisoned in them. Each rasmus spreads fan-like to the edge of its circumventing frontier, and as the cool wind deadens the close of summer, stroking its nails in gently, the yellow of dying cells penetrates the spongy layer of mesophyll through the waxy lamina, percolating gently downwards to spread on the chestnut coloured underbe...

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