The past few months have been an intense period of self-reflection. World events force people to have an opinion on something that takes the brain a while to fully understand. It makes one question their values. Personally, I am left with a few realizations about my career and the type of author I want to ...

We were surprised but not frightened when the dead came to visit. Our hopes and prayers had been answered. Their return, a gift that death was an elaborate joke, a mistake, a bad dream. At first, we knew them. Lost family members, ex-lovers, neighbors, and friends of friends made their way to our homes. The ...

We are gathered together under the bright-lit moon Where soulful art meets grit And emotions find expressions through words

A short acrostic poem about the wonders of poetry!

My head shook in disbelief at the sight of the flamingo; all the while, my brain created plausible scenarios that overtook any rational thought I had before. “No, no, this can’t be real.” While backing away from the pink bird, I whispered, “Miss Martha, Louis, this is a joke, right? This flamingo is an animatronic, ...

Imposter syndrome is real. A novel idea that won’t go away. Stories that stay in drawers won’t become the next literary phenomenon. Writing can be torture. Each word feels like navigating a field of Legos barefoot in total darkness. After a few sore toes with a stream of curse words, the end is in sight. ...

“Are these feathers from the flamingo you’re keeping?” I gave a stern look to Miss Martha and Louis while my fingers tightly gripped the pink feathers. My mind attempted to remain calm, but anger rose inside my body. “Please, tell me now.” My voice said through almost gritted teeth, which took myself aback. This anger ...

Dreaming when I’m wide awakeI let my spirit soarNever knowing what’s at stakeWhen I open that door Seeing things that don’t belongInside the waking worldBut I float upon a songAnd let my mind unfurl I do not know if I’ll reviveFrom this deep fantasyI only know I feel aliveWith things I cannot see So if ...

My mother had a faulty sixth sense that flickered like a dying light bulb. She called them “bad feelings.” Often, her premonitions came too late. If we got lost driving, she’d say she had a bad feeling about the road I had taken. If I didn’t get a part in the school play, pass my ...

Sofia stumbled along, blind in the darkness, her left hand tracing the painted concrete wall to her left, the other clutched to her aching ribs. She stopped, planted her back flat against the stubbled surface, and listened. Staccato curses echoed and bounced through the black passage, Jax’s angry voice peppering her with rancid fear. Her ...