Tag: creative writing
The Box From Her Dreams
When would my nightmares end? My mother said not to worry; she said that these dreams are a product of my worries. We struggled day by day to put food on the table. No one had yet to hire me, and my father lost his job. At the time, I thought maybe she was right. ...The Tripod
This tripod has been around. The box was dusty, shoved in a corner of the attic. Three legs. At least there used to be. I see the joints where repairs were made. The first leg is wooden but the break is new. The break is clean; smooth to the touch. No splinters prick my fingers. ...From The Ashes
At two o’clock in the morning, Cassidy stood in her driveway and watched the only home she ever knew burn to the ground. She clutched a thin blanket around her, attempting to keep the cold January winds out, even though she was close enough to feel the heat of the flames. Close enough to smell ...Core Beliefs
I often wonder when I’ll be able to let go of core beliefs I’ve held for as long as I can remember. One constantly plagues me, and I’d love to kick it in the face one day and never look back. In about four month’s time, it’ll be three years since I had my weight ...- CreativityParenting & FamilySelf-Help & RelationshipsFictionMemoir & AutobiographiesHome & GardenLifestyle
Burn Memory Burn
A dying fire burns in the hearth, grey smoke unfurling and twisting into the open air. Dust particles alight beneath the breaking of a new day. And he sits in his chair, old, decrepit, half-mad, as old thoughts bring fresh wounds. The first thought is of her smile: how it crinkled her face and brought ... Inner Voice
There is a voice Urging me to go on Telling me not to think Of the past and where I came from Quiet yet present In everything that I do It says to keep pushing through For the future holds So much more for me. How do I get to that place The glorious future ...The First Day
A rhythmic beeping permeated the darkness. A warmth squeezed somewhere at something. Then, there was light. An impulse twitched and flicked my soon to be recognized eyelids. In my periphery, a soft blue blur came into focus. It draped over an arm – my arm. My tremoring vision followed my left arm to the source ...For Madison – A Free-Verse Poem
colors vibrant beneath the sun’s light, a clash, a collide, within the scope of your eyes. how bright the world must be to see what you must see, uplifting thoughts to think, always to float, never to sink paint-covered hands grace worn piano keys, count to four and back again; what whispers of music can ...Rush
Taylor comes home from work to find the room a complete mess. The floor is littered with red solo cups, dirty clothes, and papers from one of the two desks that occupy the room. Her roommate, Ashley, is face-up on the bottom bunk. “Ashley,” Taylor says, “are you awake?” Ashley doesn’t respond; she steps closer, ...
