I have been super busy this week and didn't have time to write something new so I pulled this out to share. :) It is the second flash story that I ever wrote, and the second piece of fiction that I wrote. :) So please forgive it's pitiful appearance and feel free to laugh!
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David Spencer looked down into Claudia's face.
"Yow seem extra happy today, Miss Claudia. May I take the liberty to ask why?"
"Yes, you may!" Claudia laughingly replied. "My dear friend from back at my old home is coming on September thirty-first to spend a whole month with me, and I can't wait! I have missed her so much since we moved, and am so pleased that she will be able to make it for a visit."
"I am very happy for you, Miss Claudia! What is your friend like?"

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ EITHER GREATER LOVE OR A STRONG FAITH THEN DONT READ THIS UNTIL YOU HAVE. :D

*******For those of you who have read my short story titled Greater Love this is the story told by Jonathan. He goes into much more detail about things that went on, but then again he had more to tell. :)*******

I. Linguist
i gravitate towards words that
provide a certain image
just a flash of color
like clarity is aquamarine
and nomadic is grainy like sand
i think of these words this way
because it helps me to understand them
why is generous deep red
and why is decoding slate grey
i like the click of the tongue that comes
when you say the word colloquial
the hard c, the clear l, the qu unquestionable
maybe this is why i’m a linguist
i like how people talk.

Glass Heart

I was only eighteen years old when I first met Jonathan, and He was twenty-one. I met him at my house where he had come to dinner. I had already heard a lot about him from my older brother, David, because they were co-workers. They worked at a lumber yard together. David says they hit off right when they first met because their personalities were so much alike, and he was right.
When Jonathan came that first evening I was the one that opened the door for him, and right away I knew that I was going to like him. He smiled at me and said, "You must be Laura."

Claudia sighed and leaned her head in her hand as she looked out of the small window. Over-all she looked a little bit grave and thoughtful, but there was a sweet smile playing with the corners of her lips, and her grey-green eyes had a twinkle in them. She sighed again, rather gustily this time, and made a comical grimace as she said, "Will September the thirtieth ever come?"
And then she laughed as she read the letter through for the third time.

Sixty-five roses in a vase by a bed,
The thirtieth birthday of a loved father-head.
A foster dad, a favorite big brother, 
A good Christian man, a true and faithful warrior. 

With Cystic Fibrosis his lungs slave away, 
The Doc said he might live to his eighteenth birthday. 
His cheerful countenance is loved by all,
Many memories are made with him to recall. 

In the morning
I bend my listening ear,
And I'll hear the voice of God
Coming near, coming near.
I'll hear His precious call,
And I'll set my every move
To follow the Lord through all.

I know He loves me,
I know He cares,
I know He hears my needs,
Listens to every prayer.
I'll follow in His footsteps;
Follow where He goes,
He knows my every motive,
My joys and my woes.