Whisper and Echoes Issue 1

Read the issue below or via Wattpad

Welcome to Issue 1 of Whispers and Echoes, a journal of small things, of short writing.

Below you will find pocket-sized poems and prose, covering a range of themes. Some will enchant, some will make you think, others still will make you smile. What they do have in common, tying them together, is the ability to raise an emotion, a thought, or a spark of inspiration…

Just like a whisper on the wind…

Just like an echo in the forest…

To learn more about the amazing writers whose and poems and flash fiction can be found below, visit our Meet the Writers page.

* Copyright remains with the author the piece is accredited to *

UnburiedJoy Pixley

The long dark snow blanketed us blind
Muffled our misgivings
Quieted our questions

Warmth is warmth

Now the ground is laid bare
Revealing the cracks
The weathering worn down to the bone
Naked, broken truth

This structure will not hold
Spring cannot renew a branch long dead

A Necessary Breakup | McKenzie Richardson

“Don’t go,” he said pleadingly.

“It just can’t work anymore, Craig.” It hurt the way she said it, like she didn’t care she was tearing his insides out. Like it was the only sensible solution. He knew she was right. Deep down, he knew. But love is stupid and it makes people do stupid things.

“Please, Mora, I love you.” He stared longingly into her cold eyes. She just shook her head.

His heart broke at the sound of the door gently clicking shut behind her.

It hurt, but he knew it was pointless, being in love with a zombie.

Traveler | Kimmy Alan

I’m embarking on a journey, I needn’t pack any luggage
I won’t need a compass, or map, nor plat abstract
I haven’t booked a seat, made reservations, nor planned an itinerary
I have no passport, travel voucher or tickets
But I know I’ll be soon leaving,
So hug me goodbye and wish me God’s speed
For I’m about to travel to a place
Only angels have ever seen

When the factory whistle blows Lynn Love

When the factory whistle has blown for the day, as the smoke clears the stacks and the workers clog home to bread and dripping, or straight to the Brewers for pie and pint, my weary feet take me to the burial ground.

Carriage rattles, the whoop of boys deadly with their sticks and balls, all are gobbled by the creak of the yews, the welcome of the crows.

I find a table top grave cushioned with moss, inscription flaked bare and I lay back, let the weeping skies wash me, hold out my hand.

And wait for you.

A Secret Place Kimmy Alan 

I need a private place, a secret place,
Away from the rat race
A corner, a closet, a little crawl space

I need a secret place

A special place where I can meditate or recuperate
A cool cellar, or a big suitcase
Where I can concentrate, even vegetate

Eventually I will emerge to face the human race
But for now get off my case and please,
Let me have my space

Life is But a Dream | McKenzie Richardson

My head spins with whirling thoughts, a mixture of excitement and fear. If what Jordan said was true, then this is all an illusion, a dreamscape, just chemicals firing in my brain. It isn’t real; it isn’t true. But then, what is reality? Is it what is true or simply what we believe to be true?

I inhale deeply to sooth my rattled nerves, looking over the side of the cliff. It’s a long way down; a long, long way to fall. I close my eyes and hold my breath.

They say you can’t die in your dreams.

We’ll see.

Tapestry of LifeSammi Cox

A multitude of little threads
Woven together
Connections and interconnections
A nexus, a hub
A meeting of minds
A tapestry of life
But just one pull
And the web comes undone…

The SnowstormMcKenzie Richardson

My shoulders droop as I contemplate my predicament. The wind outside howls harshly, shaking the creaky one-room shack that is my refuge from the storm. Now that the sun has set, the temperature has dropped sharply. The deathly chill seeps into every part of me. I see the snow piling against the cracked panes of the windows.

I look over at my sole companion in the shelter.

He smiles at me, his fangs growing in anticipation.

He stands slowly and stretches, then looks back over at me.

I have to get out of here.

Meet me by the waterfallLynn Love

He goes to make tea and finds her crouched on the staffroom floor, her back against the cupboard.

This is where he steals time away from ringing phones and deskside banter, leaning on the counter as the kettle boils, enjoying the vibrations passing through his hip. He imagines the rumble is a waterfall, a cascade beating smooth rocks.

Her skirt has ridden up her thighs, her face has turned doughy, smeared with liquefied mascara. He hangs by the door, mugs sagging in his grip.

Perhaps the kitchen was never just his refuge, but hers too.

He holds out his hand.

The Princess in the LibrarySammi Cox

Once upon a time, in a land not-so-far away, there lived a princess.  Well, no.  She wasn’t a princess.

She was a librarian.

But, she felt like a princess, because she spent most of her time in a castle, by which she meant “library”.

And every day, the Prince – who wasn’t really a prince but an English Professor – would come to the library on his lunch break.  They would smile shyly at one another, but never talk.

One day, that changed.

‘Come fair maiden, take my hand,’ he whispered. ‘Let me show you a world beyond these shelves…’

A Soul ReflectedMcKenzie Richardson

She wiped her eyes as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The sallow cheeks, the dark circles, the heaviness of her frame. And most of all that dark bitterness in her eyes. Maybe that resentment would live on for years.

But deep down, in the very center of her being there was something that defied that hatred, yearning to burst out of its confinement. There was something rich and beautiful that resisted the ugliness of the world, a tiny spark of light in the darkness of life. Inside there was someone whispering, “It’s all going to be okay.”

Human ParadeKimmy Alan

Meander in the evening
Have a morning walk
Take a romantic stroll
Jog around the block
Walk your dog
Play Hop Scotch
Don’t just sit stagnating away
Come join the human parade

Magic at Midnight Sammi Cox

Deep in the forest at midnight
Cloaked and bathed in silver light
Witchcraft, magic, ritual and rite
Changes will be wrought this night

Words are whispered, incantations said
The fire flamed in deepest red
Power from both the living and the dead
No going back, the charm’s been fed

EmpathyMcKenzie Richardson

He pulled her deeper into his embrace. Her tears felt like daggers in his heart, digging deeper with each cry. Her pain was his pain. It was a sad and beautiful truth.

The greatest pain is seeing those you love in pain and being powerless to help them.

He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. Looking up, she gazed into his loving eyes. Her tears momentarily stopped, a little smile forming on her lips.

His heart soared at the sight of that smile.

The greatest joy in life is seeing joy in those you love.

Stress Relief Kimmy Alan

Ask anyone who’s battling cancer, and they’ll tell you nothing can tax the body and mind like chemo. The resulting stress is enormous.

Cancer patients use a variety of methods to relieve stress. Popular approaches are massage therapy, meditation, aroma therapy and prayer. In my battle with cancer, I’ve discovered a way to combine all.

Just hold a baby.

Take a new human, hold them close to you.  Taking deep breathes shut your eyes.  Strong little hands will grip you, firmly but gently.  The pounding of a quick little heart and fragrance of silken baby hair will hypnotize you.  Soon you’ll be so overwhelmed with love, through the voice of baby’s breathing; you’ll hear God whispering in your ear.

Take it from me.  There’s no better stress reliever then holding a brand new person.

Notes; the above form of mediation is a life saver.  If I hadn’t had my baby nieces to hold everyday while I went through chemo and radiation, I would never realized remission from stage four cancer.


6 thoughts on “Whisper and Echoes Issue 1

  1. […] first issue of Whispers and Echoes is now available to read over on the Dreaming Spirit Press site or via […]


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