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  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Gripping the key in my hand is so cold; so hard and unnerving. I keep squeezing until the key is pressing so sharply into my skin it hurts. I walk right out of the empty room, leaving my scattered stuff on the floor. It doesn’t matter anyway. I just need to find you, since you didn’t answer your...
  • Opinion > Love / Relationships
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    I want to post this for one reason. To wake some of you up. Here is the best piece of advice you will ever hear, it comes in a few parts: 1. Don’t wait for someone to save you. If you honestly think someone is coming, your knight in shining armor maybe, is coming to rescue you from the dragons, ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    This time of the year, cool days were few in the south. So in this small southern town it was not uncommon to wake up slick with sweat, and to sleep in thin garments. The older citizens would wake up and wade through the sticky heat that had already seeped into the morning. Then they would get ready...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I am nothing but a person. I am not extraordinary, or magnificent, I am flat, plain 2D in a 3D world. I could leave without a trace. So why do you talk to me? I walk down the halls alone, but you run up and chat my ear off about the way wind can sing sweeter, than any bird that lived. I listen in...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The sky cries down on me. Does it feel sad? The sky doesn’t break. Does it want to? The sky screams with thunder. Does it feel pain? The sky flashes? Does it have a camera? I love this sky. Does it love me? I hate it to. Does it hate me? I feel so safe under this sky. Doe...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    On TV, you always see pretty people fall in love with pretty people and then live pretty lives and live happily ever after. My fairy tail ending was stolen from me. No, I didn’t lose my love to death, a friend, or a broken relationship. My love was stolen from me at birth. You hear stories abou...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    The sun blared through the window, harsh against my eyes. Why couldn’t it take a break, let it be cloudy, or just go away. I don’t want to pull the blinds, because then I couldn’t paint. The mountains looming in the distance are purple in reality, but in my world I paint them in a deep red, in...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The day was bleak and cold, leftover from winter, even though it was now the middle of April. If you looked up the only thing you would see is a blanket of clouds, covering all blue in the sky and blotting it out to a dull gray. Even the sun couldn't be seen from behind the clouds. Looking o...

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