Emery Pine
Bio
I’m a poet with sprinklings of fiction. I write with the soul, so I hope you find it interesting and relatable
Stories (73/0)
Unfurled
10/22/18 Daniel was standing on his toes to see over his classmates’ heads as his sister pulled up into the school parking lot. She had promised to pick him up during recess to go home early and go get ice cream. She always took him out for ice cream on his birthday. Ice cream with Alyssa was always the highlight of every birthday. Although, when he thought about it, any time with his sister was bettter than any time without her. His classmates yelled and giggled around him, enjoying their recess. But Daniel just waited on his tiptoes, tracking his big sister across the parking lot. When she finally got close enough, he waved his arms around and called to get her attention, but she just laughed and told him to wait just a few minutes so she could sign him out at the front office. About 347.5 seconds later (yes, he counted), she finally came into the playground area to come collect him. This was the part that was better than the ice cream: being able to run at Alyssa and feel her arms around him like she would never let him go. He never liked being alone. It scared him.
By Emery Pine3 years ago in Humans
Untitled
Part One I love their pain. Their screams sound like music in my ears. Their terror tastes sweet, rich with life. All that too short, pathetic life. Their lives are nothing but a waste, only spanning 70 or 80 years, never amounting to much more than simple reproduction, creating more wasted lives. But their pain and terror… Their fear explodes through my senses like a ripe blackberry on my tongue. Their broken screams that rip their own throats is beyond music. Their torn, mutilated flesh sends a thrill through me, even at the thought. Their dying pain is beautiful and delicious.
By Emery Pine3 years ago in Horror
Her Name Is Hope
10/13/19 “Her Name is Hope” I think I might be in love with Death. The problem is that I can only meet him once, so, for now, I have to settle for his cousin, Hope. Hope is a disease. She feeds me the belief that things will change, that things will get better. Logically, I know they won’t. I know that Hope is lying. But here’s the thing about Hope: she’s manipulative, but you can’t help but love her. She’ll tell you everything will be ok and make you trust her. And then she’ll break you. She takes you out at the knees and stabs you in the back. But you’ll forgive her, love her again with her sweet and beautiful face. You’ll breathe in her promises of next times and live her lies. She’ll get you high just to break your mind.
By Emery Pine3 years ago in Psyche