I’ve been through some stuff. I used to think it mattered. I wrote rather excitedly about it, and most particularly if it involved my dreams because I believed very much in those.
I really only have one thing to say.
I thought it years ago, and it’s why I stopped writing.
The one thing I would write, if I could only write one thing, is shut up and listen.
Click the pic for the original challenge. Written for Ermilia’s Picture It & Write.
The dream is always the same, every night, falling, falling without end, until nausea or reflex pulls me from my sleep with a sudden grasp of my bedsheets. The dream was the same, that is, until tonight.
Falling dreams aren’t unusual. I fall from cliffs. I fall from trees, or into them. A lighthouse, a bridge, a tall office building… Sometimes I’ve slipped. Sometimes I was pushed. Sometimes I have the marvelous ability to fly and I’ve launched myself in blissful confidence, and others, I’m quite attracted to gravity and my plunge might be one of suicidal depression. This dream is none of those things. I simply fall, and fall, and fall.
It was inevitable, I suppose, that I should grow accustomed to it: the weightless plunge, the suspension in freefall. I could Continue reading
Silent and dead are just not the same thing. The eternally silent are not necessarily dead, and the eternally dead are not necessarily silent. It’s as simple as that.
I don’t care whether you believe me or not.
~ Annie
Aww….
Katie was crying miserably, stood on a stool, water running, washcloth in her trembling hand.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Her mother stepped into the bathroom and turned off the faucet.
“They won’t come off,” Katie sobbed, scrubbing the washcloth at her cheeks and then throwing it into the sink in anger. “My face is going to be dirty forever.”
Katie had Continue reading
I wonder if Carl even has a clue?
Carl walked into the office at Offgoods’ Trading Co. and seated himself uncomfortably in a throwback wooden armchair, clearing his throat to further announce his arrival. The company’s eponymous owner, William, scribbled diligently away at his desk, seemingly oblivious to the intrusion. The office was an archive of stubborn refusal to join the 21st century; an old steel file cabinet and a bookshelf full of hardback books, a turn-leaf wall calendar two months behind, a tin of pencils with an old-fashioned sharpener that was screwed to the desk next to a Newton’s Cradle. Continue reading
Click the pic for the original challenge. Written for Ermilia’s Picture It & Write.
The phone rang, once, twice, three times…
I glanced casually over at the caller ID before the fourth, but I knew what it would read, and I knew I couldn’t answer. Work – of course- and my head turned hypnotized back to the picture in the magazine.
It wasn’t so much that the shadowy corpse depicted there could have been a real-life zombie amid the post-apocalyptic frenzy of today’s entertainment culture Continue reading
Book of Love wallpaper from http://hqwallbase.com/
I say that easily more often than anything else I say. Anyone who has commented on my stories a few times has probably read it in my replies at least once. A lot of first time commenters get that reply when they don’t say much in their comment. On the surface, it seems like I’m simply thanking you for reading my story, and I’m really not. My quote, slogan, whatever you’d like to call it – it’s really my Continue reading
Click the pic for the original challenge. Written for Ermilia’s Picture It & Write.
Kathleen slipped off the table where she’d been sitting and tucked her phone away. “My mom’s here, gotta run…” She grabbed her bag, threw quick one-armed hugs around the rest of us and dashed off. I slid up next to Trish on the table to take Kathleen’s seat, still warm under my butt.
Marna had just come out from the dressing room in time to catch the last hug. “You’re not changing, Rach?” she asked me.
I shook my head.
“Why not? Aren’t Continue reading
Alice through the Looking Glass, 2007 by Su Blackwell
Sit down, relax, make yourself comfortable, and lean in close. I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a very good story and it would be a terrible misfortune to spoil it with discomfort. I will picture you at first (as you won’t be that way long) snuggling warmly next to me by an evening fire, wrapped in a robe since you’ve just had a good bath, and eagerly awaiting each page as I turn it. I shall picture us this way because those are things that make me comfortable and I should like to be Continue reading
Anne Schilde 