(Inspired by “Because I Could Not Stop For Death”, by Emily Dickinson)

You could not stop for me—
So naturally, I paused for you—
Come, join me in my carriage—
The journey is long and overdue.

Rest now, recline your weary head—
There is no need for haste or worry.
At my most earnest, I have said:
Relax, dear soul—forget your hurry.

Behold the children in the fields,
Frolicking through golden whea...

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup,

Secrets spilled and soaked into our souls,

Broken hearts bled, as tired eyes shed tears of sorrow.

It was a night like any other when it all began to stir up,

Though first had I believed the notion laughable and droll,

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup.

I laughed and forgot, thinking not to count the facts brought up,

Or rather…I was afraid. That in our...

Indulge in the fruit of knowledge you crave, 

I, the serpent of Eden, implore you,

Come! Taste and see it is good.

Go On! Take it, as you should,

Partake of it, and be born anew, 

Indulge in the fruit of knowledge you crave.

With wisdom’s bite, the heart will be changed,

Discover the truth that is waiting for you.

Come! Taste and see it is good.

Your eyes will be opened. Wise and Brave.

Wasn’t ...

_(Retelling of the Hunted Hare)_

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In the year 2019, in the backwoods of some North Carolina forest, there was an old woman. She was a kind old woman, now nearing seventy in her age, with long thin hair, nearly gray, threaded white. She favored wearing plaid shirts, often with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and faded blue jea...

**Drip, Drip, Drip**

Every step is agony.

Blisters bloom on the backs of her ankles,

rubbed raw, torn open,

weeping in shades of red.

Her cotton socks,

now stained pink,

cling to her sweaty feet

like a second skin.

**Drip, Drip, Drip**

Each step is agony.

The sun bears down,

merciless, unrelenting.

She walks, heavy-limbed,

wishing for tomorrow.

Her lifeless eyes

stare ahead.

She trudges forwa...

**Silence.**

Eerie, unnatural silence fills the empty corridors of Blue Stone Manor. The only sound is the echo of your own boots against the cracked marble floor, each step a ghost of the last. The stillness presses in, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the relentless pounding of your heart. It roars in your ears. Your breath comes in short, uneven bursts, each inhale trembling with the weig...

Night falls upon the hour,

Painting the manor in blue,

I walk through these hallowed halls,

Headed to my private room.

I ring the bell inside it twice,

Metallic chimes resound,

And swiftly comes my tiny maid,

With her tiny cart, head bowed down.

She says nothing as she lifts the kettle,

Pouring the tea with grace,

And once the leaves begin to settle,

She dips her head and takes her place.

I lif...

Leona Castiel walked a fine line between duty and pleasure.

He didn’t exactly enjoy his job. It was messy, dark, and undeniably dangerous.

Yet, part of him thrived in it. He cleaned the streets of filth that dared to step out of line. The screams of agony that echoed through the empty basement halls were like music to his ears.

All so she could stay safe.

**Georgina Floyd**.

The most...

** Prologue**

Red. What once had been her favorite color now soaked into the pristine white carpet beneath her feet.

Calista dropped her new maroon backpack by the front door—the one she’d carefully chosen to start middle school—and froze. Her gaze fell to a crimson trail leading deeper into the small, simplistic apartment she shared with her mother.

Her breath hitched as...

I could have been a star.

No, not like some giant ball of gas hanging in the endless expanse of space, but someone people look up to—someone others admire, aspire to be. I could have been a model with my slim physique and poised demeanor, an actor on screen, or even a dancer, my limbs long and graceful.

But no.

I became a doctor. Sort of.

In Velorion, a nation where technology and science stre...