The January Scribe

Meet the January Scribe- Me! An amateur writer and musician who loves expressing my feelings through art. Reading, writing, and playing music have always been favorite hobbies of mine. I believe that EVERYONE should get a chance in the spotlight.

Writings

Followers

Following

The January Scribe

Writings

Followers

Following

I Trusted You

The January Scribe

1 min read

I trusted you then

And look what happened to me

Look at the knife wound...

Poetry

The Dead Musicians’ Support Group

The January Scribe

2 min read

The room looked rather peculiar. Sure, it looked like any other Al-Anon meeting or whatever was taking place. There were a few chairs arranged in a circle, and one of the people, sitting towards the head of the group, had a clipboard. But it was a blank room, almost ghostly- especially the people sitting in it.

Oh, and the banner that read: _The Dead Musicians’ Support Group_.

The woman with the...

Humour

Follow The Leader

The January Scribe

1 min read

Follow the leader

In the early hours of the morning

Follow the new leader

In the dying hours of the afternoon

Follow the new leader

In the dark hours of midnight

We never stop

But we change the leader

So that no one person

Is responsible should something go horribly wrong

But it won’t

Because we follow the leader...

Poetry

Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full

The January Scribe

3 min read

Barefoot, I creep into the next bedroom over. Dark and cold, I rush over to the figure lying in the bed.

“Mariana!” I cry, “Mariana!”

My sister rolls over, her light brown face smudged with dirt and her black hair rumpled from sleep. Her eyes are still closed, and she greets me with a grunt.

“Mariana,” I say again, walking into her room. “Where is Papi?”

“Papi’s at work, Julio,” she groans, tu...

YA fiction

Drama

Labels And Things

The January Scribe

1 min read

What does it mean to be inanimate?

In the eyes of most,

It means to be lifeless.

But wait.

A sweet strawberry grows from a flower

And bursts into a bloom of flavor

And juice

And sweetness

As it dies,

It drops seeds,

Fragments of its former self,

And creates a family.

That is not lifeless.

But a strawberry cannot move

So it is inanimate

But a robot

With a cold, hard shell

Cannot think

Or feel

Or ...

Poetry

2/14/1999

The January Scribe

1 min read

**First Picture on the Strip:**

****

She looks shyly at my eyes. I look confused, hands perched upon my lap. Her mouth is open as if she is speaking. God, I hate that hair.

**Second Picture on the Strip:**

****

My eyes are wide and I have one hand clasped over my mouth. Her mouth has dropped open as if she was probably yelling. I just sit there in awe. God, I hate that makeup.

**Third Picture on...

Drama

Sister’s House

The January Scribe

1 min read

Water seeps in

My wooden doors start to swell and bulge

But my heart stays at rest

I never thought

My sister’s old house

Would be this problematic

She never was.

Trudging through

This slow-rising disaster

I try to find a sealant

Chaulk, mortar, anything.

And that’s when I notice

A small trunk tucked away

Rain hits like bullets

On the glass windows

Pelting my only outer shell

But I forget about i...

Poetry

Drama

Make It Through

The January Scribe

1 min read

**January 2025; Seattle, Washington, USA**

Yes, he was old, whithering, on the brink of death. The Grim Reaper stared him in the face and didn’t look away, and yet, something happened when he felt that soft, inviting slice of fabric.

He…………….

Still…………….

Heard…………….

It…………….

**September 1939; Danzig, Poland**

****

The young boy turned thirteen today. He was tall and lean for his age, and hands...

Drama

Romance

My Definition Of Poetry

The January Scribe

1 min read

“Words thrown together?”

Wait, I don’t think that’s right

Have a big picture...

Poetry

Hushabye

The January Scribe

1 min read

Hushabye

How could something so small and fragile

Take up so much space in my heart?

Haven’t slept in a week

Just for you

So tiny

So new

Will this world be kind to you

All I do, I do for you

Husbabye, baby

Don’t cry

Don’t cry...

Poetry