Tags » Stories & Writing

When We Go to the Butcher

When we go to the butcher,

I’ll hold your hand so hard

my memory will seep

through your pores

and you’ll be looking

down on your little eyes… 157 more words


The Judge and the Spy in the Corridors

Mettel heard the sound of drums on the walls of the castle behind him– the Truth Seeker’s stronghold was under assault.  He skittered forward, along the thin, cramped winding corridor. 549 more words



Ted died a week before the butterflies hatched, so the five chrysalises, suspended like taupe bats to the top of the cup, were neglected.  They grew into each other until parts of their wings broke and scattered to the cup’s circular bottom, and when Bridget’s unskilled fingers removed the paper strip – a long flight of flightless butterflies stretched out before her – she thought, Their pain is my pain, too.  2,937 more words


You Don't Know Me

What I want

is to cut

to the gut

of it and read

through what reeks

and what leaks

and what puddles

near my sandals, 116 more words


Mother, Daughter, and the Bold Scout

Maba stared into the eyes of Dread Anna. He stood nearly on tip-paws, trying to bring himself to her height, his lip quivering as he stared into the eyes of the greatest hero and worst villain both in the history of the Peshga tribe, no in all the history of the Parua. 389 more words



It’s easy for me to do it

to unlove something,

with the carbon

it takes to make

up my soul.


And it’s easy for me… 95 more words


Feel Me

Anywhere inside of here

is reading bones like braille.

The pain, intense

inside of me,

the surge

when I exhale.

And do that thing

you always do, 93 more words