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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There are many clocks around here as Father’s people like to keep their schedules. One in the hall, one in Father’s office, one in my room on the second story.   It’s a biting night. Six-pointed stars spark coldly above the mist that convulses from the towers. There are st...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It begins with a tremor, the slightest ripple in the wind. It seeps through your vision, spreading like watery paint through canvas. Air rumbles, ground shifts, bolts spring and the lights appear, sparking in the dark. And then it comes – a clumsy stream of blurred shadows and shrieking...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    I stared down at the empty spot. Well, nearly empty. Plain grass, a little bleached from too much sun and too little water, shriveled and crumpled against the ground. They reminded me of people in that way: under too much stress and not enough love people shrivel and crumple too… unless they never...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Everything is bleak. The picture on the wall, the bright box of tissues, the pale sheets with the flowers in all shades of pinks and purples: all artificial... I see that now. The TV is blank- a stark reminder of how the rest of my life looks without her: one giant, black void that is sucking me in ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Bird. Airy, spontaneous, wings tripping through the fresh breeze. A shadow looms. Fly!...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A catastrophy is a blessing and a curse; a mimzy recollection of flickering images and salty, grey memories. It trolls and phishes, diseases. It clangs, grinds and disturbs. It is a fantastic blur, an animated horror, as it seems, come to life through your own incredible desire for place...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    Lightening flashes and rain falls in torrents against the stonewalls; the city is flooding. The sky is black, the clouds striking upon the cathedral high above me. Dark creatures swoop down from above, their tattered wings fluttering against the spark of electricity. My villagers scream. Water i...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Do you know what I can’t tell you? Do you hear what I can’t say? Do you see what I can’t do? Do you? Do you know that if I didn’t think you would hate me I’d tell you Do you know that your son says up late at night stifling his tears against his pillow Do you ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    To the days of Hallows, Once gone and past. To breasts of the swallows In blooms which don’t last. From the chill of hatred And beat of the drum, Old days now past, Old friends whenst become. My mother in heels, Her shoulders draped in soot. My father in bottles, Piled up at his fo...

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