I like writing bad stories.
The Passage of Time
I. Home was my mother’s womb II. The warped faded blue wood of the front porch leant away from my mother’s double wide trailer,
How Final Fantasy XV Saved Me
Warning: There will be game spoilers. Summer of 2017 I was twenty-two and had just finished my third year of design school. I had moved back home out of my residence hall and was thrown in the depression of not being able to score a summer job. Plagued by social anxiety I had interviewed for a retail position at Kohl’s and will never forget my interviewers face after I told him I didn’t have any questions about the position. His face dramatically dropped and that was when I knew I had messed up. I had walked out of the department store with sadness in my heart, and thought back to earlier that fall when I had junior review for my major and one of my reviewers told me I should always ask questions. I clearly hadn’t followed that important tidbit of advice (though after that fail I always made sure to have a question ready). I didn’t get the job, and didn’t have the heart to go through anymore interviews that summer.
Lost in the Rhythm of Machines
The drone of mechanical tapping fills the back work room. Needle number nine of the Tajima embroidery machine embroiders the neck of a goose caricature on the front of a hat in 853 light brown, going at fifty stitches per minute. In between color changes the local radio talk show filters in from the stereo propped up on a shelf. The hosts end their morning segment before I press the green go button after the machine moves to needle four and begins tapping out the name of the shop the hats are for in a light silver (150).
The Orchestrations of Life
The grass in our backyard was a blanket against our backs and a pillow to our heads. We gazed up at the sky finding shapes in the overhead clouds that were blooming in ever changing organic shapes as we searched for the familiar within them.
The Long Thaw
It felt strange to be home. The frozen ground crunched underfoot as Prince Luche peered at the small body of water before him. A forest stretched out behind the pond. In the distance was Valencia Palace, named after his great grandmother Queen Valencia. The large castle that towered above the tree line itself was his destination, but he hesitated during his ride home, ordering his driver to stop by Riderwick Park to sort his chaotic thoughts.
La vie en rose
One thing I've come to realize is that I don't need anyone to believe in my dream. The only person that needs to believe in my dream is the most important, myself.
Follow the White Rabbit
“The world will come to an end in two years this day,” whispered the man. His words almost inaudible, yet the only sound that penetrated the gray open space. He was standing underneath a streetlight that was suspended in the middle of nowhere. His presence was merely a shadow, features unidentifiable except for his height which was around six feet and his eyes. His irises were a piercing shade of vibrant sapphire. After he relayed his message, he turned around and began walking towards a forest of thick trees that spawned up behind him. As he did so his body began morph, distorting with every movement as he suddenly transformed into a small white rabbit. The rabbit paused underneath its spotlight before staring back as if waiting for it to be followed. It took off as the sound of loud booms resonated through the atmosphere, ripping everything apart.
Breathing Through Water
Tufts of cotton-like seeds blew through the warm June air. The wispy white parachute forms that fell from the cottonwood trees in the neighborhood resembled a springtime snow. It gathered atop the unmanicured lawns on the block like a blanket, weaving in between blades of overgrown grasses and weeds.