I met Hawky and Co’ by the rotten old stump behind Old Man Jenkin’s place. We were somewhere around 14 years old that summer, the year I really got to know those two. They waited for me while I arrived late like I always did. Hawky, called that since he always hit his mark with…

A man of gray in both face and clothing stood grounded in the swirling mists of the night. His features flattened against the backdrop thanks to the peculiar color of his skin. He stood silently and still as stone, watching a boy struggle with the lock on a door. A boy, dressed for a cold…

The porch wraps at half, simple Craftsman columns uphold the porch roof, providing shelter from elements. One day, a woman will enjoy her coffee, waving to new neighbors. Now the siding is painted white, to give opening to the newness of the family home, where memories will grow like children raised inside the four walls….

Slicing slyly, arrives the point. Warm to the sight, comes the color beauty beholden oh how it wields the flame creating forms of rigid tenacity and terrible usefulness. Creating the forge within a stream, or a spark, that connects and separates At the bearer’s hands. Tipping such a scale is in the mind of the…

It’s two in the morning and I can’t sleep. It’s raining outside. Pouring, really. The rain taps firmly and incessantly on the glass. tap tap. tap. It makes me uneasy, the tapping. I try my best to avoid looking out of the window, just in case I see something out there. Even though I know…

The world floats by lazy eyes, enveloped in the shimmering iridescence of a soap bubble. Ears hum with the buzzing resonance of all that is, all that was, and all that is left to come. Caught in a quiet, fuzzy reverie, as life rolls on, and leaves me behind.

Wading through cluttered aisles, the fragrance of antiquated books wafting with each step towers of things piled upon things memories upon memories A rusted bike, missing its wheels A fraying rag doll with a stitched smile and one blue button eye A small, faded pink dress with a red stain on the sleeve A tattered…

I lie here waiting watching silent ‘neath the shadowy eaves of the broken night. Casting my mind to the lost and broken, lost in shadows, lost in light. What is it? Loss isn’t when you can’t find something, loss is when you feel the imprint. A blurry negative of what once was. Being lost in…

Vincent: A wealthy nobleman who fancies himself a knight James: A humble shepherd. Isabelle: A fiery girl who’s been trapped in a tower. Scene 1: 2 men in a wooded scene: one dressed in fine armor, one in a simple tunic.The knight calls out: Vincent: Ho there, young fellow! What brings you to these treacherous…

Beauty The truth The sad reality of my life is… I’m not enough, a failure, I disregard my beauty, and so on. Enclosed in a shadow of my own self pity.   The story of why Younger me wished to be seen. Seen by boys and viewed as beautiful, but no matter how hard I…

My body was in pain, and my heart raced as I fell and tumbled down a set of wooden steps. The shock of each collision with the water-damaged steps added to every wound I’d already suffered. The last thing I saw was gray cement, and everything went black, consciousness was ripped away like lost pages…

“Hey, it’s Dex! Do yo thang! Hehe!” I swallowed hard at the knot that formed at the back of my throat, and the sting of tears threatened a torrential downfall before I could start my message. His whimsical voice and ready laugh always brought a smile to my face, but today the sound of the…

“This world is pretty fucked up ain’t it?” I asked myself in the mirror. Typical that there was no response. I felt numb, but I have seen this day coming for a very long time. I have not told anyone about this day. My thumb rubbed over the neat numbers on my wrist. My death…

Every death I experience brings me closer to mine. Death happens everyday; death is natural. That never makes it easy. I am surrounded by death, some good, most bad. The scars that line me are from death, but they originate from destructive people and destructive motives. Some in the ground already, some I’m still fighting…

Thump, thump, thump. Simon’s knuckles rapped against the worn oak door. Several minutes passed—no response. He rocked back and forth on his heels, eyeing the name on the mailbox. “R. Greene,” it read. He lifted his trembling fist to knock again, when the door finally creaked open. A faint beam of light streamed onto the…