Jamine Santiago
Bio
Stories (2/0)
Out of the Pines
Year 49 of the New Times Corbin stood over his brother's grave still clasping the gold heart locket while he gazed towards the hills. "I always seem to miss the snow until I haven't seen the color green for a month,” he thought. When it's hardly ever truly dark, the white of the snow was a constant mirror to the lamp of late. Every step, every stumble, lingers for a few days in the off-white mess of disheveled earth and snow. He dropped the locket across the grave stone and felt overwhelmed by the memories flooding back.
By Jamine Santiago3 years ago in Fiction
Scissor Dreams
Scissors, I came across this word while I was looking for sewing supplies and I started thinking about how sewing and creating has become such a large part of who I am. Sewing is one of my earliest memories and one of the first things I ever made was a mermaid out of an old sock as a gift for my grandmother. Years later, after her death, I found it in her box of "Important papers". She was the reason that I sewed, she bought me a sewing machine and a good pair of scissors when I was nine and told me how to care for them. Only use these scissors to cut fabrics and dreams, she said and I took heed.
By Jamine Santiago3 years ago in Families