Something magical is floating from the firepit, Something beautiful in faces that are fire-lit. A strange song crackles between wood rings, slowly fire-bit. Our party encircles the blaze, becoming fire-knit.
The Fire-Knit
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Story Embers
Story Embers was run by a group of Christian writers and editors who were committed to glorifying God with excellent craftsmanship. We accepted article, poetry, and short story submissions from a number of Christian storytellers around the world. You can peruse posts from contributing audience members below.
I Hope You Know
I understand your hesitation, dear one. Life has fallen so far from perfect. You’re left shattered, staring at the broken pieces of what was your normal life, struggling to find the words to say goodbye to what was good, and safe, and predictable, tired of searching for the silver lining, tired of looking on the bright side.
Color Me Saved
My heart is red in a world that’s dark; my Savior’s blood colors me stark amid a sin-swept world of gray. Now I’m seeing everything this way. Gray clouds gather in the sky; gray is on the faces passing by.
Content to Struggle
It’s hard for me to say or describe what I feel; though I’m physically better, it does take time to heal.
The Undertaker’s Son
I built my first coffin when I was thirteen years old. Father said it wasn’t good enough. I built another. And another. For five years, they were never satisfactory, but Father was too weak to work, so the deceased in our town were buried in not-quite-good-enough coffins.
One White Rose
There was black. And there was white. In the silence of the morning mist, a golden halo frames a pale face, set and stern, stiff above a coal-black gown that brushes against the shiny marble in the dewy grass.
I Hear a Train
I hear a train piercing the night, loud in the dark, quiet in light. Why does it cry while mankind sleeps? Most hear a whistle; I hear a weep.
Forgiveness
For many days this hurt has grown. My conscience weighs with guilt that’s known to self alone; a sense of right bestows itself upon my plight.
Trains
Time is an engine entangled with life that masterfully pulls all the strings. It marches through past and future alike and binds up the stars with its rings.
Raindrop Eyes
The road glosses over as if of glass, which shivers when the raindrops pass, making red and green dance from traffic lights in stance, hypnotic, on the river-road ahead. Through the world, a gentle gray has bled.
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