Is that crazy? Am I?

For better or worse, I’ve turned. I was unable to resist, I tried I tried. Though I did, I lost. And now I feel him coming for me. Like breath on skin, nails scratching down flesh. Soon he’ll be here, and then even though I’m fighting with everything I’ve got, I’ll lose when I face that thing I dread. Which is meandhim. ( Read more... )

Polarity and Correlativity

I want my fucking medication.

Maybe even to get some goddamn sleep.

But instead I just lie awake and remember. Faces and what could have been’s .I go through recollections and episodes in my head like desperate flashcards. Trying to grasp futilely at the smoke of what I used to be.  Memories and ( Read more... )

I enter the bedroom, mostly dark with a few beams of dusty light peeking in through the unhooked windows. Caden is sprawled across his bed, his sheets twisted and twined between his limbs.

His small chest rises and falls with his deep breathes. His hair is in disarray, sticking up slightly in the back and obscuring his face.

I tread ( Read more... )

A Dream of Dread.

“I need to run, but I’m too horrified. I scream a question: Is it me you want? The war-god nods from his place crouched on my floor, like a predator, familiar yet features undistinguishable.  As I scamper away pathetically, he grabs my ankles and pulls my feet out from under me. As soon as I land, I desperately kick him hard in ( Read more... )

 

"Events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order the continuous thread of revelation." ~Eudora Welty.

16 Days Later.

Time: Golden Age of Greece.
Place: Small Island in the Mediterranean.
Status: Still lost. Morale Low. Time seems to pass slower with each day...

I’m running down the path outside our modest dwelling, frantically looking for Ryan. When I finally find him, it’s like a miracle. He just shifts out of the shadows, as if a compass inside me delivered me to him, without a second thought. His eyes widen and dim at my appearance: red-bloodied hands and clothes, flushed cheeks and eyes brimming. ( Read more... )

It was Professor Roberts, or as he had all his students call him, “Tony”

Tony used to say that everything you do is a self-portrait. It might look like the ‘Mona Lisa’ or ‘The Rape of the Sabine Woman’, but the angle you used, the lighting, the composition, the technique, they’re all you. Even the reason why you chose that scene, it’s you ( Read more... )

I’m rooted there. Barely standing, yet unyielding to death. Refusing to look down, to acknowledge his coffin’s existence. All these strangers, fumbling mutely with their rude hands. He’s caused heartache without end.

I’m no longer a character of this story-I’ve checked out, and left myself behind. Exited, and climbed out of the casing to ( Read more... )

I'm trying to catch Ryan's gaze. Wanting him to sit on my other side. I know there is something I should say to him. The words fleet through my mind, and then I am left blank ( Read more... )