Tag Archives: writing

All I can really remember is that she asked me “How is it that they can let you go? Who would ever want to let you go?” We both said a lot of things we meant that night, and what’s … Continue reading →

“Hush little baby; don’t say a word.” Moonlight is cold, silver fire through blue night; it slices in from curtains and windowshades, leaving frigid gashes on the walls and smooth, polished puddles of ice on the floor. It washes the … Continue reading →

I loved to watch her sleep. Such a sweet, peaceful look on her face. They say even the guilty look innocent while sleeping, with an expression that’s near angelic in its serenity. Having never seen an angel, I don’t suppose … Continue reading →

It was the dry of winter, cold and tasteless, grey and hateful. It clung to fists and mouths and eyes and music, crackling and gritty, pops and whistles echoing from lips brittled by disuse. We hadn’t laughed in millenia; it … Continue reading →

My inability to keep focused was going to wind up getting me killed; I was certain of that much. Right around the time I looked at the clock for the thousandth time in thirty minutes I knew I couldn’t even … Continue reading →