Southern Serenade.

Southern Serenade by Ronovan Hester

The hand carved swing was beneath the trees along the back fence line and I let my body and the wood find each other in their common curves, as I knew was the thought behind its creation.

The early fall night was cooler than I had expected, but cooler rather than hot was a good thing. The temperatures were higher than usual for this time of year.

The candle flame wavered slightly on the tree stump used for a table. He’d thought of everything. A lot more of everything than I knew about, even now.

The flame didn’t do much for reading, but that wasn’t why it was here. There was something warm about it. The kind of warm a heart needs, not the flesh. Staring into the flame could help a person get lost for a while. But I had been lost for too long. I was searching. I wanted, I needed to find.

Crickets chirped a Southern serenade. I drifted between their harmonies and the dancing of the flame. If asked I would’ve sworn the swing moved, although I knew it didn’t. At least not by my doing. The flame grew large and then small again, back and forth, with the size changing as if in time with my heartbeat.

A sky filled with dots of dreams and wishes, twinkling their good luck and smiles down on those they were intended for. Those dreams, those wishes burned bright and rained down to a place between the flame and me. The serenade grew louder. One wave after another assaulted my peace.

An ocean roared and waves crashed against the hull chasing the moon. A voice called and I turned. Dark hair moved and sun bronzed cheeks glowed in the moonlight, lips parted an—


I jerked. Two figures stood over me, each with an arm around the other and looking down at me. “What time is it?”

“About 9:30. We stopped by Mom and Dad’s and got caught up in talk. Sorry we’re late.” Blue eyes of our father searched the eyes I’d inherited from our mother.

“And your mom had lasagna made.” The young woman rubbed the man’s stomach.

“Shh, you weren’t supposed to mention that part.” Mother’s lasagna was his kryptonite.

I smiled up at the miniature version of our father. “You two are lucky you got out of there this early, considering you two were together. Wait until they find out.”

“Well, it was a bit uncomfortable, but they were doing their best to talk about anything and everything other than something.”

My brother and I both looked at my best friend then at each other and then back again. “That was amazing.”


“Sis means you just made so much sense while saying so much nonsense. You could be my partner in a law firm one day. ” He leaned down and kissed her the top of her hair. His lips lingered. I could see him inhaling her scent. He had wasted so many years not realizing she had been right in front of him … waiting.

He turned, a grin of joy, a look of bliss on his face. His eyes caught mine and frowned.

“Don’t you dare.” I held up a warning finger. “It’s okay. My turn will be soon enough. I know it. It has to be. After all these years, he can’t give up now.”

“It would take an army to stop him.”

The golden glow of the candle blurred. “But that’s what they have.” Arms wrapped around me and the stirring of the wind blew out the flame. My world plunged into darkness. The stars were dim compared to the heart of the flame. Even when it couldn’t be seen.


This is my entry into my first Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes Prompt Challenge. The story is one you can choose to have it fit in the manner you wish for it to. I hadn’t planned for this to be a Be Writing on Wednesday post but it’s the day I was able to have it ready for.

I don’t write about something unless I am either interested in the subject or am part of the character make up of the cast. For today’s story I looked around and believe I found an appropriate quote.

“What I can say is that all my characters are searching for their souls, because they are my mirrors. I’m someone who is constantly trying to understand my place in the world, and literature is the best way that I found in order to see myself.”~Paulo Coelho
Paulo Coelho Quote of Characters Searching for SoulsVisit SilverThreading.Com for more quotes this week.


Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in December of 2015. He shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through his blog His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as

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21 thoughts on “Southern Serenade.

  1. Ron, this was absolutely haunting and beautiful. Now, I want to know more! I love the quote you picked because it describes your characters perfectly. Now I must ask. How are you getting the bio bit at the end of your posts? Do you add it each time or is there some kind of footer? 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    • I add it each time. There was a way to have it on each post, after the post itself on one theme I used. It might be in this one but I haven’t searched around too much. Also by doing it this way I get to choose when to use it. Some pieces, like the Haiku for Paris I didn’t want it to be about me or self promotion. And thank you about the story. It took me decades to realize contemporary was what I truly wanted to write and where I belonged. And what might be called romance the specific genre although I might describe it more as life than romance.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I loved it. I think you write modern drama. What family or relationship doesn’t have that? LOL. Your bio is a great addition. I might have to copy you. 😀 ❤


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