I guess you could say that I am an aspiring author. All I’ve wanted to do, since I was a little kid, was write stories. It’s my goal to one day publish a book. I’m hoping Vocal will be my first step towards my goal.
To Everybody Else, You Are Only a Dog
To my dearest Riley, To everybody else, you are only a dog, a miniscule fact of life, a being that holds little value when compared to that of a person. It is to this fact that I disagree whole-heartedly. I want to tell you your worth, before I lose my chance, before you are but a memory in my heart.
A School Children’s Blizzard
January 12th, 1888, in Dewey, Kansas It happened quickly; more quickly than anyone could have imagined. For the middle of January, it was warm out. Warm enough that I could leave my heavy coat at home while at school. Our teacher, Miss Harper, told us to go outside and play after our lunch of cheese sandwiches and apples since it was so nice outside. While my classmates played their games, I sat alone with my journal in my lap. I spent our time outside drawing the schoolhouse. I was fascinated by the way the curtains were flowing in the breeze and tried to capture the gentle movements with my pencil.
Sometimes I Just Don’t Feel Like Talking
Sometimes I just don’t feel like talking. It’s not because I am rude. It’s not even that I’m a prude. It’s just that Sometimes I don’t feel like talking.
The Bad Hand
San Marco Federal Penitentiary July 24th, 1989 Death row is cold. It’s lonely and unforgiving. It’s mostly quiet, except for the screaming fantasies of freedom that swirl without end in my mind: the sweet smell of cut grass, the light chirps of birds outside my bedroom window, the simple slowing of time during a hot, late-night shower. Those things have escaped me forever.