Red Canary Stories

I went in search of Enlightenment, and found it under a Sakura tree. And all the mysteries of the universe revealed themselves to me. Unfortunately, I cannot tell those secrets revealed to me. But I'll keep them close and keep them safe, right here, under this Sakura tree.

She had, The most beautiful of wings. But, They were stolen away. It mattered not, For they grew back in time. And she instilled fear in her enemies By tearing open the sky to reveal them. Author’s Note: The image is of the Monteverde Angel sculpture.

Beth Ezel, a senior art major, is struggling to create the perfect piece for her final art portfolio due at the end of the semester. Dr. Foster, a retired professional painter, is overbearing and extremely critical of his students’ works, constantly berating them for their mediocre talent. “None of you will ever be as good as me.” He repeats for the thousandth time that semester. The harsh criticism is taking its toll on Beth's mental and emotional health. Her self-esteem is shot, motivation is dwindling, and she as lost confidence in her artistic ability. If she, or anyone else in the class, couldn’t come up with a mind blowing piece of art, then there was no hope or chance of passing Dr. Foster’s class. Thus, delaying her graduation and possibly everyone else. Over the course of a few days, Beth's determination becomes obsession. She forgoes sleep, eating, bathing, and socializing in order to make use of all of her time. Beth's desperate mother begs her dau...

There is a dream sleeping somewhere in the depths of an ever blue ocean. I believe it belongs to Gatsby. It will never again see the surface. It was his precious dream. James Gatz. The Jay Gatsby. During the time when he was still alive, he loved a woman. It was me. Daisy B. He loved me the way all girls desired to be loved, like the Shepherd so loved the Nymph who didn’t love him. I was his Nymph. Beautiful and carefree, but he could not have me. Would never have me. I’m sure we were, by fate of the cruel Stars, meant to be together. Yet our love, from the start, was a tragedy. It was for one of us, who would meet an abrupt end. Gatsby’s love nor wealth Could buy back my love or our time. I, his Nymph, spurned he, the Shepherd, for a Duke’s son. I desired wealth and status, even at the cost of my own happiness. But the man I married could not love me. Would never love me like Gatsby always did. In our forgotten youth, Our love ...

Somewhere, drowning in the endless expanse of ocean and time there is a dream. It will never again see the surface. That dream was my dream. Jay Gatsby. The Great Gatsby. In my time, when I was still alive, I loved a woman and she loved me. I loved her the way misers love gold, like nymphs to the Spring. She was my Flower. Delicate. Beautiful. A smile like no other, but I could not have her. I would never have her. By the hands of the Stars, we were meant to be lovers. But those same Stars cursed us and we were doomed to tragedy. One of us at least. All of my love and all of my wealth and riches could not buy her love. My treasured flower fell into the arms of another who did not, could not, love her. Like I do. Like I did in life. Love is so short. Forgetting is so long. I am dead, but I cannot forget. Our young love was like the Spring. Now, it is an endless Winter. She no longer loved me, of that I am certain, but I still loved her. I still love her. A m...