He was an unimposing, but very interesting figure. “My name is James O’Donnell. I wanted to come in person to express gratitude for interposing last night and make sure you’re okay.” “I should be thanking you,” Elizabeth said. “You had everything handled and saved me after I tried to play hero.” “Yet I doubt you ...

“Lizzie?” She realized she’d zoned out of the conversation while her parents were play-fighting. Jules was looking at her, concerned. “Sorry, my head hurts, but I’m okay.” She gave a loose synopsis of the situation, about the old man and the two gunmen. She minimized how close she came to dying from the gun pointed ...

Looking in the mirror, what do I see? Am I a product of joy or misery? I am unrecognizable in my age, like a tattered book with wrinkles on each page. I’ve lived a long life and still don’t quite know- Where is my previous self? Where did she go? Is she staying inside, though ...

Elizabeth didn’t sleep well. She woke every few hours, either to some noise or because she was uncomfortable. She dreamt of the old man and the ring, a different dream every time she fell asleep. They were in the diner, but it was only the two of them in there. She sat on the ground ...

Across from her, stuck to the bar, was a fragment of bone, glued to the surface by a glob of viscera. It made Elizabeth queasy, but somehow her intense focus on it prevented her from throwing up. The white shard eventually fell. No one noticed but her. The old man snatched the discarded weapons and ...

“Where is Jack Kelly? I know he’s here.” If the man with the gun hadn’t yelled, Elizabeth wouldn’t have heard him; her ears were still ringing. His gravelly voice managed to break her trance on the weapon he held.  He was wearing a black hoodie with a ski mask, burgundy gloves, black track pants, and ...

Tick-tock, it is manuscript timeMy zine is not in decline Line after lineMy quill slowly winds From the aromatic pinesTo the soothing brine A pause at the vinesFor a glass of wine Tick-tock, goes the timeThe climb stays benign Tick-tock, goes the timeThe chime is on time Time is neither lost nor foundTime hears no ...

Doubt starts to grow when the first wind blows through Time occupies the dark plane all alone Left with the thought that there’s nothing to do Doubt starts to grow when the first wind blows through No longer sure of the things one once knew Or what direction to take to get home Doubt starts ...

Life is unpredictableWe try to fill it with thingsThat makes us happy or sadBut nothing can help us predict our future We think that everything is set to fateSo we fight against the grainOr do we sit and wait for events to happenAs they may appear to be Our lives are what we make of ...

time after timewe always seem to repeatnever learning, but always questioningthe strangeness of the world. constant distractions interrupting the quietlosing focuschanging channels the craving for something chilla way to simply exist without the stressto stop and smell the roseswe must make the time try to find that one thing that brings you joyand never let ...