Glory

id quod plerumque accidit

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It is strongly recommended that you be current with The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion before reading The St. Crispian’s Gazette. Enjoy!

x Beth

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Glory

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He called her Glory.

How they would run. And in the rain, an early acceptance of spring grass beneath them. Feet previously bound by winter shoes growing reacquainted with earth and tide. Fragile cold turning towards steadier days, bursting forward into another year. Warmth and rain would come by turns. And as light lengthened along the coast, they would spend entire days on clifftops as associates of a sympathetic blue sky. They saw afar off. They watched ships. They looked for unearthly surprises. Long stretches of splash and run played themselves out along the frothy edges of the ocean, every wave an invitation to something beyond.

Up, up! Small fingers pressing against rough stone as they scrambled from one small cove in search of the next. Sometimes his younger brothers would wheel around, happy as jackdaws, and she the fierce sun around which their play would orbit.