Category: creative writing
“Can you hold my coat? I’m going to just walk around for a bit,” she said, handing off her long, black jacket to her husband before he had a chance to respond. Continue reading
My pen carves out valleys, creates monuments of thought. Continue reading
I am who I am because…
I am who I am because Sam Smith’s voice makes me tear up, but few other things do, not even death. Continue reading
Cutting Someone Off Feels Like Drowning A Puppy
You are drowning a puppy.
You are so tempted to let the puppy live but for some reason you know in your heart that this puppy, however cute and engaging, is toxic.
So it squirms to use its air path, and it struggles hard to win back the right to breathe but slowly it starts to kick less, struggle less, and all at once, its just a body, silent and stiff, still like death, the most hopeless, desolate stillness. Continue reading
She walks into the lunchroom, feet following the rhythm of those of the three girls who walk in by her side. Veering through the mess of chairs and tables, this quartet makes their way to their favorite lunch line, with their favorite lunch lady.
“Ew, there’s water on this plate!” wails one of her friends.
“Oh my god, that’s gross…” agrees another.
She picks a wet plate up with two fingers acting as tongs, her nose wrinkled distastefully.
“This fork is bent!” Disgust has crept into her voice. Continue reading
Letters to old friends about why we’re not friends today
This is one of those relationships where I don’t think anything went wrong. We used to be the best of friends because of our similar backgrounds and traits.
I think I was the one who changed.
Look at you now! You are so beautiful and basically a better version of yourself than back when we were friends. I hope for my sanity’s sake that this isn’t because we stopped being friends. Continue reading
Lack of dialogue
Sitting in class, I hear the teach say do silent work; you can use headphones if you’d like. I pull them on and work silently for a few. But silence is curiosity suppressed and I look up. Continue reading
Guest Post: Aporia
So quick backstory. This is Earth, about a thousand years later. We’ve averted the global warming crisis of 2032 and 2503, but because of this, Earth is now an inhabitable wasteland, save for its middle atmosphere, where humanity now lives. Having built a floating city using anti-gravity technology developed in 2380 when humanity tried to flee the Earth in search of another planet to habitat. Now. Life on a floating city in the future sounds great and all, but remember: Humans live on resources, and there are none in the atmosphere. Or so we thought. That’s why the majority of the humans in here operate in the mines, large chunks of land that were blown off the surface and caught in the Floating City’s anti-grav field. Continue reading
Intense, like no other
Intense, like running a burned finger under cold tap water
Intense, like debating for 3 days straight
Intense, like the way you devote your life to something unconventional
knowing there are so many reasons for which it could fail, but holding on because of the one reason it might work out
Intense…is the way I feel about you. Continue reading
A monologue about eyes
I won’t bother speaking about the color of her eyes, as they are irrelevant. I won’t bore you with the typical blue oceans or pools of chocolate brown, as she can’t control her eye color. I won’t bother telling you how her eyelashes are unnaturally long, or how they bat and flutter little Eskimo kisses. No, I won’t enlighten you with any of that.
Her eyes widen when you speak to her. She can look you at you straight, without breaking eye contact for over eleven seconds, as most lawyers do with their jury to establish a personal connection. Some people let their guard down in the first few moments, but quickly resume passiveness as they fight the insecurities and vulnerabilities inherent in human nature.
When she’s struggling to find the perfect word, she’ll look up and slightly to the right, sifting through her brain. When she’s skeptical, she’ll grimace with the right cheek, and there will be a crease in the eyelid as it scrunches up with incredulity.
She doesn’t like to look down when she talks with people, and she despises looking away from them as they walk towards her in the street. She hates the way people turn their faces into masks, devoid of emotion. She hates how some are utterly unable to maintain eye contact, as if the glare were so intense it burned their retinas.
She is the literal embodiment of the sun, and it’s pretty clear once you look into her endless eyes.