New post every Monday and Friday.
Helpless, soft little hands, curling instinctively, grasping, searching, hoping, for mama’s fingers, or papa’s palm. Helpless, old brittle hands, instinctively closing from the pain, waiting, lonely, hoping, for a warm embrace, forgotten what mama and papa felt like. Helpless, born without consent, die without consent, the same soft hands, hardened by life, once… Continue reading Poem: Cycle of Life
Your eyes don’t see the rising sun, casting itself differently across the skies each time neither do you feel its varying touch. Your eyes can’t see the drifting clouds, never two the same but your eyes don’t see the difference the world changes around you the barren trees coming back to life blades of grass… Continue reading Poem: Envy
An ongoing difficulty associated with writing fiction is generating new ideas that can be used for storytelling. Often we look of inspiration in our own life, whether it be looking in the past, what we have been through, or seeking stories in our present, what we are going through. But such methods can be finite… Continue reading Neil Gaiman & Generating Story Ideas
It was dark out but the boy was awake. Eyes closed, he listened to the familiar sound. It reminded him of a beating heart, his own whenever he was in trouble, the pulse-quickening, thumping louder, clouding his senses with each beat, what started out as quiet and peaceful, rhythmically natural, changed, guilt-ridden, the sound was… Continue reading Short Story: Familiar Breakfast
How to live? when you’re a kid you’re told to be good, to work hard, “be a good boy”, and so you do as you’re told, constantly trying to please, constantly trying to figure out your life, with passing time comes clarity of who you are and what you want, and then, randomness, that which… Continue reading Poem: How to live?