Strength to Overcome


My eyes became cloudy. I could feel tears begin to form, my face congested, my eyes puffy, but I was not allowing a single tear to flow. I refused to show the truth behind what had driven me to the brink of insanity. People constantly asking how I was feeling, if I was doing okay. The answer seemed so blatantly obvious to me, I was a total train wreck.

Do Something


I shifted in the chair, sitting in the auditorium to watch the high school talent show. I’ve already seen some acts and they were really great. With the auditorium packed, I watch as another act was about to begin. The two announcers came out and stood on the stage. One is wearing a black hat, white shirt and jeans. The other is wearing a black dress and black shoes. They call out the next act and left.

She Stubbed Her Toe On Anxiety


She walked through the hallway with determination in her eyes, courage through her spine, and a smile that told the world she was thriving. That’s what they saw at least. That’s what they told her they saw. Her demeanor told them all that her life was perfect.

Tap, Tap, Game Over


Trying to wonder what thoughts may be going through a person’s head is a difficult task. It’s even harder if that person is homeless and hopeless. The first time I saw him was in May, about three years ago. I was sitting in the backseat of the car with my eyes on my phone. Playing a basketball game which was getting pretty intense.



It lay half-sunken in the wet sand of low tide, the water parting around it with each swell of the waves as though trying to avoid it. Only a half hour had gone by since the sea carried the thing to its final resting place, and yet the crowd that had gathered was enormous. The strobe light of a thousand camera flashes illuminated the thing in harsh bursts of white light, the flare of the bulbs reflected in the film of salt water and slime that enveloped it.

The Good, Well-Behaved Little Girl


Dear unfortunate soul of whom holds this story with- in their hands, There is one thing that needs to be understood about this tale before it is read, we are all meant to be different. There are men who beat their wives, there are men who collect pennies. It is in the differences that we matter. For if we are all the same, then what keeps us from being utterly replaceable? ...



Today’s date is October 17th, 2017. I just ordered my usual iced coffee at my favorite cafe. It’s been four months since she left me and five since I’ve stepped foot in this place. Last time I was here was with her. She ordered her coffee and sat down at a table before mine was ready. She used to wait for me, but as time went on, she became impatient.

The Boy


As she stopped to catch her breath, she looked back, clutching her side and wheezing with her hands on her knees, smudging her glasses with shaking fingers as she tried to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. Around the corner came a shadow - small, and moving painfully slow but always too close - and her heart caught in her throat again.

Ace of Hearts


She started her day by incinerating her alarm clock with a spell. She cast another to make breakfast, burning a three of spades, and another with a ten of hearts to conjure a cute outfit. The cards burnt themselves in a puff of smoke, and Mars noticed she was almost through this deck, and had no idea what cards she had left. She was getting sloppy.



When I tell people that one of my biggest fears is a banjo, they tend to laugh. No, I am not lying, and yes, it is a perfectly reasonable fear to have. I am not afraid to simply look at a banjo, nor am I afraid of the sound, the timbre, the unusual proportions of the neck and body, nor the type of people one might associate with playing banjos. To this day, Kermit the Frog is one of the best banjo players I know.




You’re five years old swinging on the metal play set on the part of the yard that is more dirt than grass from all the years you and your brothers kicked it as you swung higher and higher. Your Grandfather is sitting in a white lawn chair, just beside the doorway, watching you and smiling every time you yell to talk to him from across the way.

Projecting Memories


It’s interesting the way we perceive memories so differently. I remember once that I read this science fiction book back in high school. And I can recall, quite clearly, a description of memories so profound I can scarcely force myself to forget.

On Nightmares and Horror Movies


By the time I finish this piece I’ll still be twenty. Less than a month from now, I’ll have reached that point in my life when, metaphorically, my by- gone days of adolescence will have disappeared into nothingness and my newly born adult self will have emerged. The big twenty-one.