Troubling Thoughts
Traveling towards the transcendent
Trying to tame temptation
Thinking troubling thoughts
Things turn tragic. Tragic to trauma
Trauma then teaches
Tracking tears to thoughts. Thoughts to tongue
Travelling towards the truth
The transcendent
Thanking the thoughts
The trauma
The tragedy
Then the truth
The tide turns
About the Creator
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More stories from Luke Miller and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Split
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. This vacuum had all the makings of the real world. There was a hot humid feeling in the air, like a stuffy apartment with closed windows after a week long heat wave, without a drop of rain. The odour of pine scented cleaning products mixed with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. There was even a canvas squiggled with “positive vibes only” on the wall, with a backdrop sea view outside the window with the midday sun reflecting off the water. The anomaly? A blond woman sat hugging her knees naked, robotically rocking back and forwards in what appeared to be a loop of terror, with a tall dark haired man sadistically watching this torturous pinnacle of suffering on repeat with a grim grin on his face. The man had all the characteristics of a model. Perfect symmetrical cheek bones, a thick dark head of hair, with a look in his eyes that was simultaneously inviting and terrifying. His abdominals ripped and bulged out of the top of a blue pair of comfortable looking jeans with a dark brown leather belt semi-opened hanging in midair. The dazed blond woman sat in the corner of the room and was equally perfect in appearance. Her long blond hair had dark chestnut brown streaks and she had large sparkling blueish grey eyes. Her cheeks puffed out like a hamster and looked as if they could have been holding a tiny morsel of food. She had two perfectly round symmetrical breasts pressed up against her knees, and although it could not be seen, the imagination told us she had an equally perfect abdomen to match her exposed legs. One thing that was unmistakable was the terror in her eyes, and the twisted pleasure in his, with a soul piercing scream of terror filling the room.
By Luke Miller2 years ago in Fiction
I AM
This is not who I thought I would be. Before my family was captured and forced into slavery, I had aspirations of becoming a wealthy business owner or possibly a scholar and philosopher. Becoming a warrior was the furthest thing from my mind. Unfortunately, our Roman conquerors had other plans.
By Mark Gagnon3 days ago in Fiction
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