Emma Bradley-Island
Stories (5/0)
Heart Strings: As Understood by a Prosector and Romantic
I will never forget the first time I held a human heart. Although it was stiff and strangely plastic due to the embalming process, it was unmistakably fragile. The heart protected within the cage of my own ribs was divided: it both fluttered with curiosity and ached with the gravity of mortality. I imagined the moments this heart had pumped through; the immense human suffering, unbridled joy of being alive and the fleeting moments of happiness before it stopped forever. I lost track of my own heartbeat.
By Emma Bradley-Island3 years ago in Humans
Drawing a Blank
Do you ever feel absurdly alone? I do. I feel it when I am surrounded by faces possessed by the most beautiful of stories. I will never know them, but I daydream about their possibilities. How outrageous is it to fantasize about the adventures constructed by Hemingway and Austin, when I am at a complete lack of words myself?
By Emma Bradley-Island3 years ago in Journal
Stranger WORDS
The subway exhales as cars whizz past the platform. The tracks squeal and groan, protesting the relentless jostling and never-ending exchange of lustless bodies; like an unhappy digestive system preparing to purge itself of poison. The souls burdened by the responsibilities of their flesh, pay one another the same regard as inanimate objects.
By Emma Bradley-Island3 years ago in Humans
Blue Valentine
In time with my vintage baby blue kitchen timer, I vigorously scrub the dye from the spaces and lines that make up my fingerprints. The plastic shower cap traps all of the moisture while my locks steep. The heat and humidity radiating is like a temperate rainforest, all of it trapped inside my terrarium crown. Unsure of what this “Extreme Teal” will transform my mixture of sand and saffron strands into, I daydream of tides and sea foam.
By Emma Bradley-Island3 years ago in Beat
The Railroad Tracks to My Past
As the years pass and the collection of places I have called home grows, I am starting to appreciate that I will carry pieces of each with me. As I prepare to embark on a nomadic lifestyle by living out of a converted school bus, the idea of home is on my mind. Indulge me in nostalgia as I explore my conceptual building blocks of home, while paying homage to the first and longest place that I have ever lived.
By Emma Bradley-Island3 years ago in Wander