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    She: Stories of a Woman
    She: Stories of a Woman
    She: Stories of a Woman
    Ebook46 pages36 minutes

    She: Stories of a Woman

    By M.R. Hyde

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    About this ebook

    One woman's life. That's all it is. That's all it is in short and pristine glimpses. This short story collection by M.R.HYDE has been called compelling, brilliant and refreshing. Experience one life from this singular American writer.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherM.R. Hyde
    Release dateSep 25, 2010
    ISBN9781452358932
    She: Stories of a Woman
    Author

    M.R. Hyde

    M.R. Hyde celebrates and explores the known and spiritual world by writing for Christian religious purposes and by penning fiction for the sheer joy of words. She is also an active artist.View the online gallery now at https://www.redbubble.com/people/mrHydeArt/shop.

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      Book preview

      She - M.R. Hyde

      SHE: Stories of a Woman

      Published by M.R.HYDE at Smashwords

      Copyright 2010 M.R.HYDE

      Edited by Cara Iverson

      Cover Photo by M.R.HYDE

      http://hydewords.blogspot.com/

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1: Grass

      Chapter 2: Dog

      Chapter 3: Color

      Chapter 4: People

      Chapter 5: Red Hair

      Chapter 6: Sunshine

      Chapter 7: Hope

      Chapter 8: Writing

      Chapter 9: Edge of the Universe

      Chapter 10: Chiron

      Chapter 11: Courage

      Chapter 12: Age

      Chapter 13: Pepper

      Chapter 14: Left Arm

      Chapter 15: Ending

      Chapter 1: Grass

      She loved grass. And she had forgotten how much until her toes touched the verdant tendrils.

      Her nerves picked up the cool and raced it to her brain. They hadn’t forgotten what a treat it was. And they were happy to remind her—with lightning speed.

      She remembered before the age of reason how much she had loved the grass, how much she trusted it. It had never hurt her, and she could never really hurt it. It always seemed to bounce back. And if it got too trampled, a bit of water would bring back its buoyancy. Water always helped.

      She remembered the joy of releasing her feet from the cumbersome leather and plastic and feeling her toes embraced by the grass. The neighborhood children flew across the lawns, unhindered except by the jaded elders screeching warnings from windows and sidewalks.

      There were things in the grass at times, but the grass did not put them there. Rusty nails, thumbtacks, broken glass—these things were not part of the grass. Someone put them there at night like the weeds in the fields of Jesus. It was not in the nature of grass to produce such things—not in its nature at all! That’s why she loved it.

      And it’s why she hated asphalt. She understood now, in part, the need for asphalt, but it was so very ugly, hot, and dark. One couldn’t water asphalt and make it better. In fact, water was its enemy. Ha! Water always beats rock—always. And the water could run over the asphalt, down its sides, and into the grass. Water always wins. Maybe that’s why God put a boundary on it.

      She remembered the time the bee had stung her toe. The bee was not the grass. She understood, even then, why it hurt. She would have bitten back if she had been stomped on too. It wasn’t the bee’s fault, and it wasn’t the fault of the grass. It wasn’t even her fault. It was a

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