Fiction: “Literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes imaginary events and people.” Some of these pieces are inspired by real events and some are just a figment of my imagination.
My hand went to write sad things out of habit, but my mending heart wouldn’t let me. We’ve been told that the mouth speaks what the heart is filled with, and so it is, that I’m overflowing with poems and praises of her. My heart first hesitated, but her words, sharpened by the whetstone of […]
To touch her soul, if only but once, is all I wish to do. What happens when words aren’t enough? What happens when time is too short to win her over? What if I lose the chance to open up, and show that I’m more than, and in some respects less than, I appear to
My hand yearns to write happy things,but my broken heart still won’t let me. I always said that if your love ever stopped, I wouldn’t hold it against you. I never saw you as merely an object to obtain, a subject to study, or a city to be conquered. You said you’d never loved someone
Her heart is a song that holds my hand. Her brown eyes pierce my soul, familiar, but mysterious. She’s outwardly shy, with a wild fire inside; she often hides it, but I can see. She’s painted in shades of passionate gentleness, soft strength, brave innocence, and beautiful hope. Through all the troubles of the world,
Her Heart is a Song Read More »
Sara stepped outside her front door into the September air. The intense heat of summer had ended and the Autumn breeze slowly staked its claim on the small town. She planned on planting daffodils in the front flower bed so that they’d be ready to bloom once Spring came back around. Next, she would go
The September Letter Read More »
I hate dreaming. I hate it because you appear to me whenever I least want you to, and you always come to me as soon as I’ve forgotten you the most. Last night, when you walked up to me so innocently, I couldn’t understand that you were merely a figment of my subconscious, kicking up
The sun shone, but no warmth could be felt. It left earlier than the day before. The trees have died, but something inside me is more alive than ever. The North night rises again and fills my veins. A flame’s hidden in the thicket, burning away the thorns. The cold won’t stop my legs from
Run Through the Winter (X) Read More »
I’ve admired many women at first sight, but never have I loved them in that moment. I believed that love at first sight was something that only happened in the movies and romance novels. That is, until a Friday in May. Every Friday I would meet up with friends who worked in the surrounding office
Love At First Sight Read More »
If you run fast enough, you can catch it again. That feeling, that emotion. That ever-evasive bliss. That high atop the mountain feeling. Why can’t you ever keep it?
