The Greatest Show Unearthed"They say on Halloween night that a special show goes around. Nobody knows where exactly until Halloween day. You can see a huge space that was never there before and that's where it will be. They say if you see it, don't go outside that night. Don't let any child go out. Why? Because chances are, you'll never see them again."
I scoffed. "That stupid story has been going around for ages and is just used to cover up the fact some parents are to careless to take care of their kids right on Halloween and then have them get kidnapped."
Mrs. Ross, our English teacher, glared at me. "This is not a story to be taken lightly Hexadora!"
"You're just freaked because the supposed spot is here in town. Hex is right, that's just a dumb story to scare us." Put in Josset, the boy who sits in front of me.
Mrs. Ross was unimpressed. "Well I can see that the story was a waste of time. And further mo-"
The last bell rang and everyone scrambled to push through the doo
Napkin You have piano hands and bedroom eyes and a big nose. Even though you told me I was the only thing you've ever wanted, could ever want, you never said "I love you." Once, I asked you why. You told me "the l word" was a four-letter word to you. I frowned and was prepared to argue, but you hooked your thumbs in my belt loops, pulled me in, and I forgot what it was.Napkin in Teen More Like This
The time I figured out that I didn't loveyouwantyouneedyou was when I gave you a hundred reasons to smile, but all you gave me was a thousand reasons to cry. Then you bought me two dozen roses to try to make up for it. I guess you never believed in "quality, not quantity." I don't even like roses.
I wrote a letter to you on a napkin. I told you my secrets and what I hate about you and how my heart beats me senseless every time I see you. I told you goodbye. But then I spilled my coffee, wiped it up, and threw it away. Everyone communicates through texting these days anyway.
we will and we arewe are the shred-shred-shredding of whatneverwas into kindling for whatwillbe.we will and we are in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we are bated-breath whispers crackling like an electric wire, slashed taut against the searing thick air.
we are a hiss of phoenix breath that rises into red-flung clouds and gives birth to a living spark.
we are flames lick-licking away our boundaries and incinerating our limits into a dusty trail of ashes.
we are fire.
and we are flying past in the night on paper horses, crying out with our feather quill tongues-
"come away, come away, for the torches are lit and the moon is hidden, and we are revolution."
we will scribble white-hot messages on the inside of our hearts and the back of our eyes.
we will pour our souls into a brew of fire, intoxicating the world with our first taste of independence.
we will unfold our chains and blot out our tears, tracing broken hearts in red ink and calling it beautiful.
we will lace our ink-stained fingers under the burning sky, and watch a flower bloom
Let's GoLet's go to another decade, or to another world,Let's Go in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We'll have a real front row seat, to watch history unfurl.
We can race Revere to Boston, we can take the West by storm,
Visit that old log cabin on the day Honest Abe was born.
Let's go to another continent, to see these amazing sights,
We can see the whole wide world, any day or night.
We can climb the wall in China, we can swim the salty seas,
We can walk down to the South Pole, and we'll never have to leave.
Let's go up to the heavens, let's go up to the skies,
We'll have the greatest vantage point, and when it rains, we're dry.
Let's climb the highest mountaintops, we can blast off into space,
We could walk from cloud to cloud up there, and visit any place.
We'll melt away the oceans, and we'll shine away the sun.
We'll go as far as we can go, as fast as we can run.
So let's go.
MirrorsMirrors in Short Stories More Like This
"You don't understand me; I need some form of pain to keep me going. I need this."
The young woman was seated in the valor armchair, legs crossed, a delicate pout forming on her face. A dying cigarette hung limply from the hand she left to dangle over the armrest, smoke curling in menacing whirls as it rose to greet the dark ceiling. Shadows hung like cobwebs, draping themselves in every nook and cranny in existence, dancing like daemons across the walls and floor as flames leapt and crackled in the fireplace. A man lounged across from her, lithe, spindly form draped across another chair, his face hidden in the darkness. For several moments, the only sound was the snapping of the burning logs and soft breathing.
"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough then." He began thoughtfully. "You may die because of your own stubbornness." He gestured towards the mirrored tabletop occupying the space between them. "Think of yourself like this mirror here, of how easily it can break. I'm here to
Walk AwayThe lights are prettyWalk Away in Free Verse More Like This
But I have to go now
These beats are turning my head to jelly.
It's cold out here
But that's ok
I'm on my own again.
The streets are dark
The shops are empty
Everybody is with everybody else.
My eyes are stinging
The tears will not stop
The floor's getting closer.
It all looks different from down here
The sound of my name floats in the air
Everything is slowly, fading, black.
pinpricksI can feel drafts of air seeping inpinpricks in Free Verse More Like This
from the tiny pinpricks left on my wall.
The remains of what used to be a
happy gallery of memories.
Each individual picture showed
a different day,
a different emotion,
a different story,
but all these differences collided
as one massive pinprick.
A hole in my bedroom wall that held
up what used to be the biggest part of
and the sole similarity that spanned
all those happy photos
All those joyful days and blissful
nights are now minute voids on my
bedroom wall, slowly deflating the place I
the world you chose to abandon
Taking with you the
pieces of paper that
I stared at,
I cared for,
I lived by,
leaving nothing but my broken heart and
the pinpricks that dot my wall like grains of sand.
I still stare at that very same wall,
but not because I still love it.
I stare because other than the
Devotion in Past TenseEmil was waiting for his brother. He'd been waiting for quite a while, really, but that was nothing new. Jonathan was usually out late on Saturdays.Devotion in Past Tense in Short Stories More Like This
Emil pretended he didn't know why. It was a lot easier that way.
He drew up his legs from the floor and buried his head in his arms. The couch was strangely cold, something that only happened at this time, late at night, when Jonathan wasn't home.
The faint buzz of the computer was the only noise in the apartment. Emil moved to the couch about an hour earlier, when his fingers were itching to press Jonathan's number into the phone. It was hard to focus on anything, even something like the internet, when he started feeling like that.
Of course, he could call Jonathan, but it was long past midnight, so that wouldn't help. Jonathan turned off his phone around midnight on Saturdays...
And Emil knew why.
But those thoughts hurt, and he had to think about something else. Like how happy he'd be when the door clicked and he would know that Jonatha
ComplicationsThere's a mother somewhere sitting on the roof with her baby cradled in her arms and they're watching fireworks. His finger is stuck in his mouth because he is afraid of them, and every time the sky screams and shoots forth another spray of static color, like iridescent snow, he jumps, and holds onto his mommy tighter. "What are those?" He mumbles softly round his thumb, sucked to a rosy red. "Fireworks, baby." He spreads her long hair round his shoulders like a shimmering blanket, wraps his small arms round her waist and neck. "Make them stop." Shoves his face into her stomach and she takes his small shoulders and smiles at him, as the sky explodes in more snow and illuminates the wet tiles with rainbow paint. "How?" She raises her hands high, like a shrug, to show him how powerless those loving hands really were. "I can't, baby. I can't stop them." He turns his head back and watches the colored fire spread across the black sky like careless paint. He learns today that Mommy can't doComplications in Short Stories More Like This