Peer PressureThe germaphobe nervously became a biologist.Peer Pressure10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Hard choicePain or numbness? The hardest choice...Hard choice1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
early mornings break my heartDear xx,early mornings break my heart1 year ago in Letters More Like This
It's 4:30 in the morning and your lights are on. I know why I'm awake, plagued by sleepless nights and too much coffee and too little time. Plagued by loneliness; the kind that, ironically, refuses to leave me alone. What I'm curious about, though, is what you're doing up. Are you in love? Are you lonely? Do you get nightmares, too? I wonder what you think about, when the quiet of the world sits like a blanket of stillness over our bodies. It tucks us in but doesn't wish us sweet dreams, because it's afraid to jinx it. As if wishing us good dreams is going to give us bad ones. Maybe we've been doing it all wrong--maybe that's why I'm wrapped up in darkness every time I close my eyes. I'd like to think you'd laugh at that, call me silly, because of course it gets dark when your eyelids flutter shut. I wonder if you're actually asleep, and just too scared to close the lights. Perhaps you're dreaming, the light from your lamp guiding you to some place happy and beautiful a
12/15/13. The lake was quiet. Not even the wind dared to speak as it ruffled our hair and bit at our exposed cheeks, slowly turning them the color of wine. Perpetual light fell down over the snow.12/15/13.1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I told you that I wanted to walk on the lake, but when we got to the dock, I almost backed out. Almost. But then you in your foolish, loving self, stepped onto the ice and grinned. There was no teasing, but yet I felt challenged; that's just in my nature. My heart pounded.
"At least if I die, I won't have to take my American Lit final," I joked through half clenched teeth.
You told me I wouldn't die. After all, the ice could hold your weight, and you were more than me by almost 10 pounds, so it'll be okay.
Snow soaked through the hem of my jeans. The sun was dipping down behind the hill, and we ventured out onto the frozen meadow with out breath forming orbs in front of our noses. I didn't want to speak; that's why I
silent.'baby,' she says shakily, 'baby, mummy might have to go to heaven soon.'silent.10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the little girl jumps excitedly, up and down, up and down. she spins, and her skirt swirls around her chubby little legs, yellow and vibrant. she's wearing a shirt, with 'you are my sunshine!' scrawled on it messily.
'that's awesome, mummy! will you take some photos for me? will you, will you? I wanna see angels, mummy. can you show me angels, pretty please?' she wraps her tiny, tanned hands around her mother's pale, bony ones. 'please, mummy?'
there's no answer, and after a bit, she stops hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation, and looks up. her mother has a fake, forced smile plastered on her face, but her eyes are miserable, and so very far away. the girl tugs on her mum's sleeve, impatient.
'mummy? will you take some photos?' her mother snaps out of it, lines of fatigue etched on her face. she wraps her other hand protectively over her daughter's tiny ones. her daughter stares up at her, con
Puzzles W1, D1I bought my sister a tangle of metallic rings in Leonardo Da Vinci’s castle because I wanted to prove her wrong. She had always underestimated me, saw me as a self-obsessed aspiring artist who is so wrapped up in her own ambitions that she can’t see the hurt around her. True, I don’t see the milk in the fridge when it’s in front of my eyes, and I forget my parents’ birthdays, but I do notice things.Puzzles W1, D111 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I notice my sister.
I notice when she stands in the middle of the room with a blank look in her eyes, or when she curls up on the couch for too many hours. I notice when she spends days locked in the bathroom playing games and solving puzzles on her phone in the bathtub.
I notice that she finishes them all, and that once she’s beaten the game, she starts over. And that’s how she looks at life: as a series of puzzles that must be solved, as a series of high scores to beat.
I’m one of her puzzles that she thinks she’s figured out. She look
i may have drowned but you, you'll burnthe water rose above my collarbone though you promised you'd help keep me on the surface.i may have drowned but you, you'll burn1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you'd keep me less dense, less probable, less present - anything - to keep me from going under but that's just the thing about bullshit you're fed with when you go to a synagogue after spending your first night at a brothel; you hope that you've prayed enough to spit in the face of the fool who created you out of boredom when you're done defying Him.
i have learned that your words resemble the pretty little flowers he used to place in my hair and that the hands that trace the arch of my cheekbone time and again were never yours but always, always his.
i wonder if i was taken in by your fragrant yet fast fading vows; i should have known from your asphodel stature that you had never tried the fear of an eternal God for size. you are closer than Narcissus will ever be to self-obsession as you choose to repeatedly hang yourself in envy of - none other than - yourself.
and you really should know that t
West of the SunShe quietly touched the reverberating cymbals and sparrows descended on the drums.West of the Sun10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Memories lay hidden inside pressed sleeves, the chilly wind brought the scent of snow.
Their dreams were pale blue against the deep greys, secrets sealed inside envelopes.
They climbed up the hill to watch the valley where the earth and sky come together.
He placed his hand on her hair, to calm down its restless flow from the past to the present.
But no matter how many snowflakes were caught in her eyelashes, all he could remember was her warmth.
She was to him a white rabbit running through the brightly lit office, a reflection of twin souls on a blue window.
With his eyes closed, he learned to predict the rain with his sixth sense.
They walked quietly while the seagulls were rushing through the breaking clouds, their white wings like sails.
The glittering blades of grass were heavy from the dew and a big oak stood in the heart of the rippling meadow.
Looking at each other by the ocean, their tear
eyelash. “Let's go to McDonald's. ”eyelash.11 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The car was a cloud. I don't mean that it was full of rain. It's a metaphor. Like, the car was so thick with smoke that you could stick your hand in it and feel clouds. The atmosphere. I would want to stick my hand in that. I mean, it's like the skin of humanity. I could be, like, touching humanity. Cool, right? I would do that.
Anyway, we were parked in the back of our the town's grocery store. I don't remember if we went in. We might've. But that cute boy from our school was at work there. Black hair. Oh, God, I'll always remember him. People say he's stupid, dim, even, but when you hear him talk, it's like he's a Greaser and I'm some dangerous prissy girl from the good side of town, and we're in some romance movie. But no, he's hot. Yeah. We still haven't gone, even though Jake said that like an hour ago.
Now, Jake is a guy. I mean he's a boy, yeah, but he's also a guy. Like,
romance.I.romance.1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The daisies burned in the sunlight. His hair fell into his eyes as the long grass swallowed him, devoured his bones. From his outstretched hands grew wildflowers, their pollen pooling in his palms.
The sweet air seemed to choke me as I lifted my voice to the sky.
"It's all right. I don't mind," he replied, eyes drifting into the haze of summer.
The day wore on.
His fingers scraped the kitchen table. I stole a furtive glance at their shadows. The evening entered, pale and lovely, like a ghostly sculpture, lightly dusted with twilight.
"Will you pay for it?"
"It can be fixed."
"No, it can't. Look at it." There were more shards than the fragments of sunlight scattered across the floor.
"All things can be fixed. Did you try?"
My heartbeat sped up and I remembered his foot on the accelerator, the rush of the landscape as it flew on the wind, the singing of the wheels against the tarmac. In the kitchen, the phone rang. It appeared that nobody was going to answer it.
"How deep is
Keep On Bringing Me Down (Teenagers 11)Keep On Bringing Me Down (Teenagers 11)2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Everyone sat quietly in the choir room, despite their successful invitational's performance, the tensions were still high. As usual, the 'Nerd Herd' sat around each other, with Jordyn stealing an occasional glance at Alex, who sat on the other side of the room, his arm around Rachel. No one from the upper quad had spoken to her, not that it was an unusual development, but Alex had gone out of his way to ignore her. Nysha had tried to make her feel better about the situation, but it was no use.
I don't get it. Jordyn thought to herself. How did Principal Hamilton find out? I didn't tell anyone. She looked around the room at everyone, hoping to a suspect. Nysha? She hates Rachel enough, but there's no way she'd ever sink that low Maybe Alex told Lance or Daryn? She looked at both boys. Lance was showing Daryn some of the choreography. That wouldn't make sense.
Her eyes darted to Alton and Caly. Yeah, okay. Then to Xander, who was showing Foxy pictu
.I beat my head into the glass shop windows – as if that would knock you out of me – clutching at my heart to assure this aching chest that I still live. Perhaps, in a way, it was the motivation I needed to keep punching pulses into my wrist. (I ache more acutely than any time before, or for any person before.).1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
I know this is a cheesy love-thing (one I thought I’d never write, and therefore can’t find it in me to name), but I can’t help but fill you into every single word and page - and therefore need to ink you out. I need to breathe you, need to tell you… tell you that sometimes, just sometimes, I can’t help but hate you – and love you – for ripping me open to bleed him out; and I’ve tried to grip at the scars that see him differently. But he will never be you, and I’m starting to doubt that I’ll ever feel whole, while I marvel over not why I still breathe, but how, when sometimes all
Solar East - Chapter OneLast night, I witnessed the death of an ancient smokestack. It coughed its lungs into submission and fell without dignity, tumbling through the graying air, and crushing itself to the earth, much like many of the ill-fated citizens in North Alincourte had twenty-three years ago. The city is a grandiose place, even with the presence of crumbling cathedrals and lonely abbots. The whole area is a site of festive attraction; thousands of Better Alincourte's citizens mill around, snapping pictures, buying souvenirs, and generally running amok through a decomposing city.Solar East - Chapter One11 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It's not that I resent the tourists. I just dislike how freely they allow themselves to wander around one of the few places where history was preserved, a city in which industrial technology merged with flourishing stone and tile.
Let me introduce you to my home.
I live in a reclusive fortress which has seen far better days than now. Vines creep up stone, seemingly pulling a man made structure back into nature. Pebbles slip
Contained.I keep a container next to my bed,Contained.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
and every morning when I first wake up
I'd write down my dreams on sticky-notes,
fold them and put them in the container.
At the end of every week I open it up
and look inside, I spread the notes out
on the floor and I notice that every
piece says, "you."
There's a place I go when I don't know
what to do or how to act, it's behind
my house and across the river. The tree
that we planted is still there, brimming
with beauty and still alive, unlike us,
and what we had.
I still have the letter you wrote me,
it's in my box, where I keep everything
dear to me. I would hang it on my wall next
to my bed, but I wouldn't want my mother to
see it. She would just talk ill of you.
Something that I don't ever want to hear,
because even though you left, I still look
at you and see perfection.
I've tried tying an invisible rope around the
memories of you and hanging them until they
didn't exist anymore, but the image of you
sitting on the gravel with your guit
Forgive me...I know it was my fault. I know I screwed everything up. I was madly in love with you, I was stupid and blind. I should have known we could never be together but I still tried really hard to make you like me. It was a big mistake. But I understand now. I never stood a chance. And now you hate me and you have every right to do so. But I still want to apologize. I don't love you anymore but I still care about you. Please don't hate me. It's been a long time and we've both changed. Possibly for better. Let's forget the past and start over, OK? Please?...Forgive me...6 months ago in Emotional More Like This
Winter Tries To RememberPerhaps it was the way her delicate crystals would soak and shudder as they touched the earth. The first few times the flakes fell they would wither and die, but they were laying a foundation for the ones to follow. Maybe it was her hushed movements that could bring the busiest streets to a standstill. Each snowflake formed piles of white petals on windshields as the storm carried on. Maybe it was how she would string subtle wreaths along windowsills by the break of dawn. Or it could have been how, even in a frosted rage, her beauty shone through to him.Winter Tries To Remember9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Winter shifts in his seat, causing a small blanket of cold air to sweep across part of the world. The people feel a sudden chill, but shrug it off. Winter takes his time as he thinks, recalling how she would bleach branches with her soft touch. He remembers how the moon would sing, jealous notes tinting her song, as snow fell. Assembling snowflakes high in the air, she would place each one with a careful hand to the ground below. She w
UnattainableWe've all liked that one person that makes the poster at the foot of the bed look like Gollum's really ugly cousin. You know, the one that's always moving in slow motion...or tossing their hair like a horse and managing to look like a Grecian Deity. The one that's so popular it's almost sickening, or so mysterious it's scary. The one that makes you gibber like an idiot when in close proximity, and blush like you just ran a marathon.Unattainable10 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Maybe I'm the only one that can attest to colliding with walls or breaking personal items in order to 'catch a glimpse.' Oh, and then-of course-the 'mysterious note' we send via our best bud with the orders of 'don't tell'. But-of course-he does because Xander is a blabbermouth; but you should have known better in the first place. Uh, but 'The One' kind of already knew you liked them but didn't want to hurt you feelings. Or so Xander says, despite the phone number in achingly familiar handwriting scrawled across his right hand.
So now "ooh" tu
symphony iv: requiem of a dream.I.symphony iv: requiem of a dream.11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
For a long while I stumbled through the darkness, groping out along the corridor. Through the gaps in the blindfold I could see the stars up above, twinkling uncertainly; distorted by the narrow vein between the fabric and my forehead.
No one had tended to the house for many years. It had become a tradition to visit and camp out in the reading room, where the most sky was visible. For in every book was at least one sky, and there must have been nearly a thousand books stacked neatly on the shelves there.
My palm raced along the rough, splintered surface of the wooden wall panels, reading the uneven pattern of the half-eroded varnish. Somewhere beyond the dark, she was waiting, and I knew this with certainty. She’d be waiting, standing perfect and luminous and shining so brightly that I’d surely see her like a lightning storm of beauty and brilliance even through the blindfold. Or maybe she’d run from me, just as I ran to her. She’d trail her fingertips around
SoulmatesSoulmatesSoulmates4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I see her face when my eyes are closed
She lives in my heart and I in hers
My dark-haired beauty, my soulmate
A lifetime of love; given, accepted
Cherished beyond measure
A love so deep it creates its own space
Where none other dare intrude
A love story for the ages
But some stories are never written
Never put to the pen
For others to marvel and sigh over
To shine through the future as beacons
Of the truth of love
She died before we met
These are the great love stories never written
Lives lived out in the sorrow of the soul
Socially Acceptable LyingHi there.Socially Acceptable Lying1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You don’t know me. That’s okay, I don’t really either, I’ve come to accept that along with everyone who knows me. It’s especially weird when someone meets me for the first time and I’m wearing a sweater vest and poring over that math textbook and then the next day they see me and I’m in that short ruffled black skirt with the pink fishnet gloves. I'm the queen of whiplash and indecision.
I’m here to audition. Again. Well, again, I say—it’s not really again, not for you, because I’ve never auditioned with you before. I’ve auditioned with other people. Thirteen of them.
The first twelve were voice-acting casters and I almost got a role in two of them but then they were canceled at the last minute because they lost their animator. Actually, the second one just plain got rid of the character, but the first reason is the one I tell people.
The last one was a director, a real live director, and I st
Dear SocietyDear Society,Dear Society1 year ago in Letters More Like This
If I may be so kind, I will lead this letter by addressing your whole state of being.
Frankly, you are a hypocrite. I do not think you, in your current state, deserve to exist on this planet.
In other words? Fuck you.
This is for me. No...This is for all the boys and girls who don't feel as if they are worthy enough of love, or acceptance, or living. This is for all the boys and girls who feel as though they are nothing. This is for all the boys and girls who return home from school every day, just to sob into their pillow, for maybe being ugly, or stupid, or gay. This is for all the boys and girls around the world, who live in horror, but never get airplay of their events.
This is for us all.
In every one of my years, I have never been so upset.
You see, Society, you like to tell us that we are all beautiful, gorgeous, handsome beings! You tell us that we're smart and intelligent. You say the color of our skin does not matter. You put us in the mindset that if we work ha
I'm here.I want to have a thousand different lives, right now.I'm here.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
I feel like I belong in so many things I've merely witnessed.
I want to travel to all the countries I feel connected with, and be part of its culture; while still remaining myself.
I want to dance to the music that moves my soul, in as many different places I possibly can.
I want to connect with people from around the globe that have felt what I'm feeling right now.
I want to breathe the air into my lungs, knowing I live somewhere I've never lived before, and it's home.
I want who I am to make sense in a dozen different languages.
I want to know streets intimately, when I've lived my entire life across many oceans from them, thinking that was it.
Who says any of this is impossible.. A year in any place can feel more like home than 60 years in the same household.
I can be peoples home, they can come to me when they're done with their day, and I can wait for them with a bottle of wine to talk about life's fleeting instances.
AfterthoughtsHe looked away in disgust. It was over but it still felt so present... The blood, the screams, the pain...The last breath. For a moment he just stood there on his knees, cold sweat running down his face, his eyes empty. He didn't want to do it but he had no choice. It had to be done. He couldn't take it anymore. The abuse, the insults, the humiliation... No more. It was over. Finally over. He didn't even care about what was going to happen next. It had to be better than what he was leaving behind. He got up to his feet and walked away. And before he left the room he looked back. To see her corpse one last time.Afterthoughts4 months ago in Short Stories More Like This