Erik woke up shivering with cold unsure if it was day or night. He freed his arms from the sleeping bag and pushed the quilts covering him to the side. He could faintly make out the walls of the bathroom so it must be daytime. He had insulated the walls of the basement bathroom with mattresses taken from the beds in the rest of the house. A mattress in the shower formed his makeshift bed. He groped around until he felt th...
In dream, my skin has been charred soot-black, not all over my body, but on my arms, my legs, my penis, my chest. In dream, I only notice the burns if my eye happens to fall upon that area of skin. There is no pain. No pain, but a deep, shuddering fright when I see my blackened flesh and am reminded once more of the severe burns I carry. It was a dream the night of September 11th, 2006, five years after that other Septemb...
Professor Bartholomew Hartfeld sat in a tall leather-backed chair behind a dark mahogany desk. He looked irritably at the clock on the wall opposite his desk. His 2:00 pm was late. He flicked the button on the intercom. “Has my two o’clock called to say he’d be late?” Professor Hartfeld asked. “No, sir,” Marta answered. “Please let me know the moment he arrives,” the professor requested, “but have him wait in the waiting...
A man sat and contemplated his life It was one not worth enduring, he thought And the months stacked upon each other His feeble existence weighed heavy on his mind And one day, he stood and set out On his first day, he composed a symphony So glorious was his creation That it brought a tear to all who heard it On his second day, he set aside his fear of rejection And he bedded a woman, fair and beautiful So rich was his ex...
The bite of the blade shocked her, as it pierced her tender pale flesh. Hesitation had always ruled this moment, as small droplets of blood beaded across her skin. Tonight, she knew her conviction had wavered for the last time. Darkness had long feasted on her frailties, and she craved the claim of shadows, the peace that would come when her lifeless form crippled below her. The bite of the blade shocked her, as it pierce...
In the black ball of the sky the weary moon tries to outdo the stars, but it is too much for the ancient fool! The haystacks, like sliced hot dogs sauced in black, blend into the deep grey night, and are recklessly in denial. The wind, though icy, coddles the darkling landscape, yet nothing roosts. She pulls out the short thick rope from her college bag, fixes it gloriously to a tree branch, slips her young head through t...
Have you ever envisioned how it is to see one of your family members dead? It may be unusual, to begin with an ending; however, all endings are actually beginnings, it’s simply that we didn't know it at that particular time. It was all going great, we were four, my father was a corporate representative mother was home creator, and lastly, my sister was in her schooling. We were all so associated with each other that it wa...
The sun does not set onThis face of mine,Nor soar on wings of fire to me,Nor rush to greet me,Kiss me, leave me,Nor burn and scorch the skin from me.It is I who moves awayWithdrawnFrom light and lifeAll blazing bright andCloistered inMy rising run,The weight of spiritLeft behind.In darkness seeps the weeping soul,The river dry yetFlowing slow,Still, from diamond dropsI riseAnd leave the day to grow star-shocked.Not I,Not...
This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Where grace and evilMeet the screaming stars,Lamplight in dragonlightEchoes matchless lost dreamsAnd are torn apart in raging squalls.Twisting vines of sweet decayAre wreathed around this ugly neckAnd thorns of bitterness so blackStab down and rip teeth through her throat.Break the night and cull the heart,Or writhe the scoffing...
This is the story of a boy who loved too much and a girl who loved too little.Which sounds like the opposite of what it should be, because you already know the outcome; he cheats, she dies, he dies. But it is what it is, and I will do my best to tell you nothing but the cold hard facts without any lenses at all. Just the truth, I solemnly swear.I met Nathan when I was twelve and a half years old: I met Anastasia six month...
So much time has passed away, since that night so long ago I know you found your peace and way, no more pain and your end of sorrow You found a path to leave the fray, an escape I could not offer And now you ride the sunshine's ray, from star to star and dream to dream Never again to enter the gray, wherever your soul now roams Hope the words reach you as I say, that I have not forgotten So, Jessica, happy birthday, and h...
|| Iris ||I sat at an orange picnic table, waiting for my interview. I ran my hand through my chopped hair, letting the winter sun warm my scalp. The families weren't supposed to be shopping, it was supposed to be a 'getting to know you' visit, but it was an audition and everyone knew it. I was worried- I didn't want to get placed. I would rather stay at this crappy foster home until I was eighteen.At a table under the bi...
“What did you learn from this?” My therapist talking. She thinks that there are lessons in everything. My answer? “Next time, cut vertically, not horizontally. Also, white wine goes much better with sleeping pills than red.” I’m planning on working this into a comedy routine. I think I have a future. I’m supposed to be writing about my feelings. I made the mistake of telling her I’m a writer. I didn’t mention that most of...
It is a windswept house; yetstill. The windowless walls areimpenetrable;the lone tenantdoesn’t botherto try thedoor, any more than she wouldaim a cameraat the skyto make sure it’s there. She has grown soused to this placeshe can remember no other; nordoes she want to. She does not hate the darkness, but turning off thelight would be like murdering thesun. When she stands nakedin front of hermirrorshe trembles withdesire,y...
She sits on darkgrass, like a migratingbird with a broken wing, calling his name.The moon,like a ball of brightwool,lazes softly in a tree’sfork,its feet hanging over intospace.She has chosen night for hertask because she is empty;there are no angels here.A light rainbeats its gentlerhythm on theleaves,a benighted squirrel jerks its hairy head, suspiciousof thesilence; andsheslipsslowlyaway.
