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I’m worried about you, Kacper. I don’t mean this paternalistically or bordering on self-righteousness stemming from my own insecurities. Instead I’ve seen what you’ve been thinking about and I’m concerned not only for you, but for myself as well. I know, I know. Who am I to tell you otherwise? I’m just a little piece … Continue reading
On the night I died, I watched myself. I was pulled from my body and stood above myself like an angel on a Christmas tree: there I was, sleeping, no snoring, and I rocked in a soft bed. The sheets smelled. The stench rose as high as I did. I tried to climb higher, but … Continue reading
I should probably just show you instead of telling you – I mean, that’s rule one of fiction – but I want to update more regularly, and I had this stored away in my thesis. It’s going up here out of personal interest: I wish to see how many rules of my own I break. … Continue reading
The following was written for the essay “the best thing to happen to you.” * It was the song of metallic death that woke him. High pitch and shrill, the door cackled throughout Mort’s room. He tossed in his bed like a fish out of water, his rhythm matching the frequent creaks of the hinges. … Continue reading
It’s happening again. Though I have already penned an epitaph, the Essay-a-week challenge is refusing to die. Numerous writers, myself included, have fumbled around week after week with the content. We could of been spending our summers soaked in sunshine. We could of been experiencing, rather than chronicling. And yet here we are again, reader. … Continue reading
Dear baby, Welcome. This is the Earth. It’s a big, big place with little, little people. I’m on it. And now so are you. None of this makes sense to you, of course. Right now you’re just a rubbery jumble of Jello wrapped up in human flesh. What else can I expect from you besides … Continue reading
I saw her through the rain. It rained often here, though I didn’t notice it much anymore. In such a little town, the rain was inevitable. Expected even. Most got used to it. They would find a place very much like where I am now – a coffee shop symphony with forks clattering and spoons … Continue reading
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