I Hurt You Because I Love You

I Hurt You Because I Love You

I could hear you in the other room. The only sounds you made were coming from the shuffling of papers on your desk, but I knew you were crying. You had this way of crying lately where you didn’t make any noise. You just sat there and shook, letting the tears fall from your eyelashes and into your cupped hands, which you always place on your lap. As if you were going to save those tears. Save them, collect interest on them, and one day make me repay you in ways I didn’t like to even imagine.






read more
A Walk With Her Mother

A Walk With Her Mother

One of the strangest things about people is how they can walk by something day after day, week after week, month after month, even year after year, and never notice it’s there. That very thought struck Sam as her eye caught a little trail leading up a hill in the woods she strolled through with her mom every Saturday afternoon since the previous May. She had been walking this very path for weeks on end, and never once saw the little trail.






read more
Jesse

Jesse

Jesse was always very good at tying knots. He was good with his hands, and when he got them on a rope or a belt or anything that could be tied into a knot, he was particularly adept. His fingers moved meticulously and quickly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. Jesse was always very good at tying knots. He made a knot in the rope of the tire swing hanging in our front yard. He made a knot in the garden hose trailing from the back of the house to the pool.






read more
Pennies

Pennies

She was throwing pennies into the ocean again. I never understood why she did that. She just stood there, like an idiot, throwing them one by one off the pier and into the sea. I asked her once if she was making wishes with each penny, but she just turned to me, smirked, and tossed a handful of them at my face. She was impossible.






read more
The Thing In The Box

The Thing In The Box

I put you in a box. It wasn’t just any box; it was a box I had left empty because I knew one day I would need it for something like you. I put you there, I closed the box, and I left it sitting. It sits way back in the corner of a room, behind shelves and bookcases, behind dusty photo albums and empty soda cans. You sit in that box and you wait. Sometimes I can feel you waiting. Not the way it feels when someone grabs a hold of my hand, not the way it feels when someone runs fingers through my hair. No, when I feel you waiting, it’s the way it feels when someone walks quickly behind me, and I turn around just as a shadow disappears from view. It’s the way it feels when someone is staring at me, while I’m reading on the train, and I look up right as the gaze is averted elsewhere. It’s the way it feels when something is right next to you, but it’s no where near you. That’s the way I feel you waiting.






read more
A Letter To The Addiction From The Addict

A Letter To The Addiction From The Addict

The only reason you were able to enter my life is because I didn’t even know you were there. You stood behind the lampposts in my mind, blending in with the mental scenery, edging alone the outskirts of my comprehension until you weakened me enough to usurp my control. This is nothing to be proud of. You’re no valiant, powerful force; you’re a sneaky child, breaking me down and striking from behind. You deserve no praise, no recognition, no honor. You deserve nothing.






read more
Arm Wrestling My Monster

Arm Wrestling My Monster

“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.” -Stephen King   I arm wrestled my monster last night. It started out as an action in jest, nothing serious. She’s usually a little playful; sort of coy and always clever. I didn’t mind it too much. We have arm wrestled many times before. She grabbed my hand and spoke quickly, eyes shining as bright and as blue as my own. “Katie, let’s just see who’s stronger, whoever wins can get a prize!” That seems almost egregiously sly, and very suspicious (because she’s a monster, after all.) But I know her well, she’s been in me for years, so I knew she wasn’t one for tricks or deception. One of the things I hated most about her was that she always spoke truthfully, no ribbons or bows tied to her words. So I arm wrestled my monster. As we knelt across from each other, I pictured the sky in my mind, light breezes, gentle sunlight. A world without monsters. She smiled at me pleasantly. I smiled back. I always do. She gripped my hand tightly, both our elbows placed firmly on the table. Our eyes met. Her’s were no longer blue, they were as black as coal now, but still bright—still shining. I hated her in that moment. I hated her glowing eyes, the upturned corners of her mouth, her silky hair that fell gently on her shoulders, her perfect body. I hated her. I let my eyelids drop slightly, as I prepared myself for our battle. Every feeling was an exploding contradiction—familiar,... read more
Walking By The River:  The Only Way I Can Express Love and Letting Go

Walking By The River: The Only Way I Can Express Love and Letting Go

  I had been walking on my own when I stumbled upon a river. It wasn’t a rushing river, no grandiose rapids or big splashes of water. No roaring of waterfalls or slaps of liquid against rocks. It wasn’t a rushing river, nor was it a peaceful river, no calm trickling or soft currents. No feeling of tranquility or quietness that fills you up to the brim. This river just was. The water moved quickly, but not dangerously. There were no waves, but also no silence. The sun shone down on it through the trees, not majestically, but not in a way that was underwhelming. The river was neither here nor there. It just was. And in that just being, it was perfect for me. I followed it for quite some time, maybe a few hours, perhaps a couple of years. I followed it until my feet became comfortable in the path beside the water. Every stride I took was familiar; each twig that snapped under my weight was recognized and understood. My body learned how to fit in the spaces between the rocks. I figured out how to avoid the moisture when I needed to…and how to get wet when I wanted to. My eyes became accustomed to the sunlight, my fingers to the soft grass and the damp moss. My hair grew used to the mild breeze that would lift it, and then let it drop once again. My ears became so familiar with the steady sound of water that they eventually stopped hearing it at all. My heart fell into rhythm with the pulse of the current. My mind fell into the happiness with the comfort of this rhythm. The days were not... read more
The Girl Who Could Fly

The Girl Who Could Fly

Girl could barely see through the tears that were starting to brim in her eyes. She tried to discreetly wipe them away without ruining her makeup, using the back of her bracelet as a mirror. It was a little past midnight and she was where she always was on a Saturday night. Sitting at a stool in the bar on the corner of Main Street. It was where she met her suitors, before taking them back to her broken down apartment.






read more
The Infinite Weight Of Nothing- A Very Short Story On Loss

The Infinite Weight Of Nothing- A Very Short Story On Loss

Ben woke up with damp cheeks. He could feel the wet warmth on his pillow before he even opened his eyes. He shifted his body until he was laying flat on his back and pressed both palms over his face. His fingers could feel the tears mixed in with his stubble. His 5 o’clock shadow had somehow become an around-the-clock situation. Much like his private, personal happy hours. Not like he cared.






read more
UA-67402630-1