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The following is a clunky part of a story still unfinished. This is trash I took out from it. Make it your treasure. Or don’t. Either way, it’ll be buried by other words at other times. * Mom comes home one day. I’m nearly seven. She looks like I do when I lose a tooth … Continue reading
You know how it is. There is not much to tell you which hasn’t already been said. Things like this or that, that or this. Or even this: I was six when I found my mother’s head in my sandbox. I’m sure that something like it has been said some time at some place for … Continue reading
The following was written, edited, and drafted for my Science Culture and Identity Class. * It was the biggest airport in the world and yet in a matter of only a few minutes, its doors were shut. Men dressed as black as the shadows they carried formed a line on the inside door to deny … Continue reading
I cried on my sweet sixteen. While my parents sang “Happy Birthday” in thick, heavy accents, and lit candles were dancing to the tune of their breaths, and wax began to dripping bit by bit on the bright yellow ice-cream cake, I started to sob. I didn’t mean to nor did I have much of … Continue reading
The following was written for my thesis. The final copy was heavily edited, * I don’t know how to explain it, Marge, but it feels like I’m on part of the short end of a stick that only gets shorter. I wake up and my back hurts. I move and my hands hurt. I look … Continue reading
The following was written in my creative writing class during a lesson on ants. I know nothing about ants, so any inaccuracy or fumbling around can be excused. Don’t magnify the mistakes, though. Why? Because ants don’t know anything about me either, so I’m sure if they are reading this, they won’t mind. * I eat. I work. I care. And, … Continue reading
I’m old. There’s no other way to say it. Here I am, four years after beginning this mess of a thing, and all I have after it all is that I’m old. I say this because I know that whatever I write here, I’ll look back on to it when I’m somehow even older, and … Continue reading
In a few moments of time, I will no longer be here. It may be minutes. It may be 74.5 years. But before I know exactly what’s happening, I will be dead. I don’t mean to state the obvious fact of life, but it’s a forgotten truth when inundated with busy lives that insist on … Continue reading
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