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Tag: Story
Seafoam And Sirens
Canvas of an unrecognized willow trunk. Droplets of rain given up on by the sky canopy. Colored veins of a painting never finished. A story blotted out with desolated ink. Projects buried and unremembered upon. Crafts beneath the shelfs down each isle. A yard full of pieces and parts, torn and engraved. Each part described…
The Raft
There is yellow; a color once thought to be full of joy. Now it is blinding, through the scattered spots of vision. Over the yellow, is blue, once thought to be a favorite color. Now both colors, both of these lovely colors, torture. They are the only colors seen for miles. Yellow at hand and…
Creature Of Freedom
Sometimes I look up at the twirling blades. The blades of the wind creator on the ceiling. I will turn it off and watch as the speed goes down to a slow dance. Moving in a perfect rhythm, like the melodic beat of a heart. I will be laying in the layers of blue in…
The Stigma (Chapter 1)
“Keegan Jones! Belongs to the Stigma!” The announcer yells this out as if there should be applause to follow. As if the crowd should be proud. His rough, withered hand grabs my wrist and lifts it into the air. As if I should be proud. I wasn’t proud though. I didn’t feel any sort of…
3 a.m. Thoughts
What would it be like if I wasn’t a writer? To not wake up in the early hours. When the stars are still out, and the moon is taking its turn to explore. Where I cannot fall back into the darkness of sleep because I have too many ideas knocking at the door of my…
Inspiration Of Motivation
They expect me to write something eccentric and intriguing, something that will absorb their stimulation. A title that is rousing and a signature that is appealing with the idea of imagination and creation. We have worlds that are remarkable to control and characters to form in their own dimensions. Yet, where do we…
Nocturnal Fairy
The lights that flicker and the one’s that just turn on by themselves, aren’t done with the perceptions that the unexceptional human being would instantaneously evoke themselves with. The lights did not behave that way because of an electric malfunction, a storm, a rat…and come now…the light is not haunted. That would simply be nonsense….
To Imagine
I love to imagine that the sand-castle I built are a palace. I am the queen and the sea-shells are my gold. The dolphins laugh at my jokes and the mermaids are my people. The conch shells are my communication with the pirates. The ones on the sea who aren’t evil and only dream of…
The Unsigned Writer 