I like to use writing as an outlet for feelings and creativity. I hope you enjoy what you find and find a reason to stay!!
the bitterness of half-and-half coffee without the sugar.
I stare at the dark liquid swirling in the cup in my hand as I drown out the sound of their mockery. I let the piercing scent of the espresso slice through my nostrils and caress my brain. This will hopefully wake me up. It had been another restless night with a lack of sleep. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, bringing the rim of the cup to my lips and parting them, taking in the bittersweet liquid on the tip of my tongue, enough milk to drown out the acidic taste. Before enough has the chance to slide down my throat in a wonderful, warm, blissful relief-- the rock collides with my arm, and the coffee spills down my front, scorching my skin.
It Rings for Death
The bell rings for death high up in the rafters of the forbidden chapel. Its wooden beams ache with age that one can hear them screech in the depths of the night. Every hour, one minute past, the bell rings its dreadful sound. And each time the bell rings, I shiver. I know that someone else has died. It was almost like the town was cursed and each hour we lost someone else, exactly one minute past. And the haunting chime shook anyone to their very soul who heard the sound. They were not the one to die this hour.
Road to Nowhere
I’d never believed in magic. I guess perhaps I should have. My sister would play their games like Cinderella and pretend to be transformed by a fairy Godmother. They’d turn into animals, princesses, anything they wanted to imagine. They believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.