A Patchwork of Life

By Annie Dameron

Our experiences are threads that weave through our lives. Seven short stories in "A Patchwork of Life" told by a variety of narrators. Among them are a young girl curious of a new neighbor in 'Available' , a special needs student in 'An Apple for Miss Margaret', and a cooking apprentice in 'Food for my Soul'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annie Dameron
• Release date: Oct 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465890719

Annie Dameron

Born in London, UK. I've been a writer since the age of 8. Now I'm a mum of three, a writer, an artist, and a linguist.

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A Patchwork of Life

By Annie Dameron

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 by Annie Dameron

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The Journey

The early afternoon sun filtered through the trees. I paused and reached out a gentle hand. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, pink and white, glowing with life. As the breeze stirred, petals drifted to the grass. A whole blossom floated to my feet. I picked it up and carried it in the palm of my hand.

The smooth stone path cut through the meadow. It branched off into two directions. I hesitated; Hiroshi hadn’t given me any directions. Which one led to the inn? The panic rose from the pit of my stomach and clouded my eyes.

I shook my head and listened to the wind. The leaves rustled, bringing the smell of fresh cherries. Far off in the distance, just beyond my range of hearing, I heard the thunder of rushing water. A river? A stream? No one told me about a nearby lake. I turned and followed the left-hand branch.

The cherry trees gave way to tall evergreens. The path was strewn with pine needles and seeds. Woodsy smells made the air tremble with sharp green incense. I made my way around boulders and slick stones. A knocking sound stopped me in my tracks. Who was chopping wood way out here?

A red-feathered woodpecker darted past my face and into the trees. My foot slid as I tried to regain my balance. The woodpecker stared at me with beady eyes. It turned its head and struck the wood with its beak. Knock-knock, it said. Knock-knock. Go-on. What-are-you-waiting-for? We gazed at each other for a minute, then I reared my head and laughed. He pounded the tree trunk in time with my laughter, joined me in the joke.

I went on. The air was cooler here; I zipped my windbreaker and clutched my walking staff in hand. The smell of ripened fruit took me around the next bend. My stomach growled in response. Soon it would be lunchtime, but I had not taken any food with me. Somehow, that did not concern me.

The path stopped around the corner. It sloped upward into wide stone steps, hewn from the rock. They stacked up one on top of the other and disappeared into the mist above. I craned my neck, but I couldn’t see the topmost step. I’ve taken the wrong turn, I thought.