The Words, Stefan Merrill Block

This beautiful paragraph is taken from Stefan Merril Block’s second novel, The Storm at the Door

In the soil of a New Hampshire forest, on a summer day of 2007, the words are no longer words, now only particles of ash. At a Massachusetts pencil factory, on a spring afternoon of 1959, the words are not yet words, only a few inches of charcoal in a rod. At the bottom of a milk crate in a cluttered attic, on a winter morning of 1976, the words fade slowly on yellowing paper. Inside the glow of a Franklin stove, on a July day in 1989, the words curl into one another, embrace one another with their sloping appendages, as they incinerate. Ascending the chimney of Echo Cottage in a plume of white, they could have been anything. Image


About Sarah JS

Aspiring writer, lover of words, book nerd, working editor, and permanent student of the world

Posted on June 3, 2014, in A Writer's Life, Literature, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

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