Why didn't you warn them? Haven't you done this before? You call my torrent of hate precious though all you've ever known, are my hungry, wicked veins, like tunnels, spreading, plaguing, leading you, and them, back to me. And, Dear Boy, you should've warned them.
She wrote a letter to God, he was unlikely to read. "I was a good mom. Did as I was told. Loved your earth, used it as my home. Please. Don't let me suffer." She woke in a field of white lilies, a letter in her hand. "You will not suffer. I have another plan."
Aeron leaned forward and looked over the other alphas. Compared to them, he was rags and sheets. Their cashmere was the finest, imported from human territories like Hosckwith. Aeron fashioned a blood-stained hoodie. He took it off to be decent, but his long-sleeved year-old shirt was hardly an upgrade. “Smells like dead skunk in here.”… Continue reading Red: Chapter 3
"I had a dream. Do you dream? "We were the same. In tenth grade. "We made the waves during the day. "At night we'd bring peace. Do you sleep?" "Then, did it break? Did you wake?” "I lived my life #centuries. "Dramatized wild plots and schemes. “And you were right there with me.… Continue reading Centuries
The big-eared boy’s knuckles grazed Riley’s cheek and a frisson of excitement trembled in her fists. Knowing his intent was to knock her on her ass, she pounded her fists into his chest and face. Chest. Cheek. Chest. Cheek. She was small, five-foot-two, and normally had to jump to produce her desired affect when fighting.… Continue reading Red: Chapter 2
Cold water dripped a pool in the corner of Aeron’s cell. Ash and dirt left a grainy feeling on his tongue. When the guards didn’t bring enough water, the drip was his salvation. He’d spent several months adapting to the taste. Soon, that would be all over. Tomorrow marked a year since he was locked… Continue reading Red: Chapter 1
The #willow weeps with loss of sleep and cries into the sky. The moon hushes its whimpering leaves, while the wind wipes its eyes. "Please don't cry,"' you dare to say, from beneath its leaves. "Heaven bleeds, "its jealousy, "but you're safe with me."
Another morning, wake for work. Can't do this today. Listen to the misery- all pointless complaints. Straight for home, "Shut up, #vile world." Gets hard to face the day. Another year, another moment left to contemplate. Should I? Should I?
Flotsam of your memory, supinely on my bed, satin pillowcase underneath your head. Jetsam piles keep floating, on your furious sea, Whispers of chimera dreams, given back to me. There, among the clouds. There, I saw you sleep. Songs of remembrance here, where I weep.
I, the #flotsam that braves the storm, that exists, that survives, only to observe from outside my own window, to watch me make the same mistakes and call it life. The rubbish that fills the junkyard in my head, soul, heart... art. Me, watching from the outside.