Austin
I'm only a human-being, making it by in my career and mending the seams of my personal life. I want to polish talent and share the flow and process behind my creative juices.
You may learn more about me in my articles and fiction.
Scarves
Scarves look comfortable, So does guilt Warmth looks appealing Especially when it's felt The cold hurts your skin But guilt isn't always a sin.
Retracing my Steps - The Green Light
'Thump', I recall shuddering to that sickening sound of body meeting pavement, bones cracking under the pressure of tire. I jerk the wheel and pull over on the side of the road. I push open the door and climb out to see the damage that was done. My hands turn clammy at the sight of a bloody man. His eyes were open, but he wasn't breathing. The man was dead. My breathing grows heavier as I place two hands behind my head.
Fire Ants Burn
It occurred to me this morning that danger comes in small packages. Has anyone questioned why an infestation of bedbugs or fire ants can be incredibly damaging? Now, I'm not an expert. But in my youth, adults told me fire ants are a threat to both humans and animals. They can cause health problems and in rare cases, death by reactions. All it took was my friend not wearing shoes that day to step on a mound of fire ants, my brother running his toy mower through a hornet's nest in the ground to get severely stung.
Words Left Behind of a Survivor
- Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance * Oh no, don't get it wrong. They were always there for me, and if ever I told you I flinch from their hand fearfully. It was a mistake. That's what they do, when they love you.
AustinPublished 2 months ago in ConfessionsGreat White Mystery
I respected my father. He was a man born with a heart yearning after the sea. My grandfather, his father, crafted boats by hand during his youth. Hence, my father was not only a skilled sailor, but he also became a trained carpenter as a living. He was great with home repairs too, teaching us that the most ''neglected pieces or creatures'' of history were treasures waiting to be appreciated.
Green Light, Red Light
Childhood. You envision innocence, vibrant colors, and laughter. Children aren't taught to be ''broken''. But I was. I was critical of the person in the mirror for my manner of critiques, instead of my manner of etiquettes. Creators try too hard, my critic shouts like a cranky old scrooge. We're taught from a young age not to judge a book by its cover. We do, especially by those somewhere in the spectrum of talent.
