Mukena Addict
Bio
Stories (7/0)
Bolts and Sunflowers
Hank knew the barn would be a long-haul project before he moved in. The newspaper advertised it as “In need of a lot of TLC.” But it couldn’t be helped; after the canning plant closed down, he and his buds were outta work. That meant they were outta rent money too. “I just don’t get how a whole plant up and leaves hundreds of good men without a way to feed their family,” he complained to his wife during dinner. She didn’t respond. She never did. Susie May Collins did not concern herself with the troubles of her husband. Ever since he lost his arm in the peach peeler, his attempts at conversation were met with radio silence. Worst of all was Chase, his eldest son, had taken after his mother. The most the boy could be bothered to respond with on any given day was “ugh.” And all his youngest son would do is cry and run to Susie. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges, but he never hit the boy. Yet all Hunter could ever do is cry and run for “momma.” When he finally broke the news about defaulting on the loan, part of him actually hoped that Susie would get mad and yell at him.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in Fiction
The City Warped by Tungsten Smoke
The city outside was covered in a thick coating of tungsten ash. From the moment Edelweiss was born, she could remember the burning sensation in her lungs as she breathed. Even a minute in the thick smog caused her to cough uncontrollably. Everyone did, but tungsten was a critical component of Spellcaster's Dust. So, mines dug further as the air turned greyer. She hustled through the meandering alleyways, deftly avoiding the black pits of stagnant water. "Let's see, last week, Lowlands Pier was north of Dyer Marsh, but I'd better check again." She shuffled past a pile of soiled handkerchiefs and across the uneven cobblestones to a tall rusted soot filter. A yellowing map lay plastered on its side. "Updated two days ago, perfect." It was only common sense to make sure the city hadn't moved. A phenomenon that regularly occurred due to the magical corruption of a spell reaching its half-life. Sure enough, the pier was now to the west of Dyer Marsh instead of north. She took off running.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in Fiction
One Man's Trash is Another Girl's Hobby
The morning glow that shines through my window. The sound that echoes in the room. The alarm that wakes me. Since it doesn't have a shape of its own, one can't just say where inspiration is. I push open the curtains. The color of Mexican plum blossoms engulfs the light from the window, cutting patterns on the room's interior. From my dresser, I grab the same ordinary clothes, and head to the usual place. The kitchen table is filled with evidence of a well-lived home. Half-burned candles and half-finished plates of food sit on a cluttered table. Lunch bags open and close in rapid succession as a day's lunch is chosen and repeatedly reconsidered. Freshly pressed work uniforms are laid on the back of worn wooden chairs. Then, as abruptly as it started, everything is quiet. Mom waves goodbye for work, and siblings depart in a flurry of jammed toast and hastily finished homework. I take a sip of lukewarm coffee and unfurl a crinkled sheet of notebook paper. On it lies a rough sketch of a girl and a list of random objects. I look up at the Roman clock that hangs above the "EAT" sign on the kitchen wall. Exactly 8:02 am, it's time to make a doll.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in Journal
Floating Above It
When I entered the 9th grade, it was into a hyper-competitive school with a strict dress code and heavy homework assignments. The small charter school had opened just two years prior and promised a revolutionary way for its young students to get a leg up in the college admissions process. Any student who stayed on course with their classes would graduate with both a high school diploma and an associate’s degree. My mom thought it was a brilliant idea. She wasted no time getting the application and wearing me down to the point where exchanging my high school social life for more homework didn’t seem utterly insane.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in Beat
Love and Punishment: The art of realistic love and the depth of human emotion
When Makoto Shinkai’s Kimi no Nawa(Your Name) hit theaters in 2016, the film instantly achieved the second-largest gross for a domestic film in Japan and the fourth-largest ever. It topped the box office for a record-breaking 12 weekends and became the highest-grossing animated film in China. For once, the critics and fans were in agreement; the movie was good. So when the US release finally began its run in late April of 2017, I knew I had to go see it, and it didn’t disappoint. Everything from the animation, to the soundtrack, even the opening grabbed hold of me and refused to let go.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in Geeks
The WW1 weapon you can’t live without
When people think of WW1, they often conjure up thoughts of the infamous phrase “trench warfare.” Images of shell-shocked soldiers sitting in trenches with eyes that hold a million stories many would never be able to tell and gruesome wounds that forever shaped a generation may spring to thought. Just as likely would the history class every student takes in 10th grade explaining the bare-bones facts of the war with glossy pages detailing mustard gas and the newly emerging concept of “shell shock” that would later go on the be named PTSD. Students in advanced world history might cover a bit of the politics that took place before the bubbling cauldron in the Balkans finally boiled over. It might cover the assassination that sent an entire generation to the front lines that took a backseat to WW2 when it came time for their yearly history exam. However, while mustard gas often left painful and debilitating blisters on soldiers. It wasn’t even close to being the deadliest chemical weapon used on the battlefield.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in FYI
Islamic Attire for an Immodest Wallet
Growing up Muslim in a red state post 9/11 wasn’t easy. In fact, I’d say it was somewhat challenging. Aside from the fact that every Muslim was somehow Osama Bin Laden’s cousin and apart of ISIS, I became viscerally aware at a young age that the fashion choices sucked. A standard summer collection comprised of capris, tank tops, miniskirts, crop tops, flare jeans, and backless sundresses. Islamically, a woman has to cover everything but her face, hands, and feet, so only the flare jeans were a go. Did I mention I hate flared jeans? A typical Muslim fashion hack would be to pair the offending piece with a long-sleeved undershirt, or in the case of those uneven dresses that became popular in 2010, leggings.
By Mukena Addict3 years ago in Styled