[ WARNING: emotionally distressing… ]
“She said she was happy,” they whispered. “So what does this mean?”
They stepped back from the scene of the evidence, their minds whirling.
“Well… she wrote down otherwise,” called the head inspector, peering over her ripped up, scrawly diary.
One page was left untouched. One page left to be read. One page, reading:
I’m a waste. A waste of space. A waste of m...
The agonising silence we hold
The quiet yet significant
clicks from the clock,
Our eyes fixated upon it,
Desperately calculating,
Waiting, stalling, hoping.
Such awkward desperation
Fills the room,
That not even
the most respectful of students
can help but steal a glance
towards the clock.
Waiting, stalling, hoping.
The room is quiet,
With the exception of the scribble
Of aimless writing,
An...
We all glanced at each other, unable to move. A single breath was a risk. A single step was a fatality. A single word was lethal.
Locking eyes with my friend, I shared a single frightened stare that spoke more than words ever could. We spoke in that brief exchange of glances. We knew what to do.
Run.
We both dived forwards in sync, each step heavy and desperate.
Beep. Beep. Beep!
The aggressive c...
We stood in the kitchen. My daughter excitedly told me about her school day, which happened to be abnormally interesting, as she claimed every day to be. I watched her attentively, bracing myself for what I was to tell her.
I didn’t want to say it.
I had debated whether or not to tell my children since my hospital visit this morning.
Unbeknownst to them, I had spent my morning in those hospital wa...
His eyes alone spoke to her, and she turned away in response, ancitipating what was to happen. That pleading look. That desperate shimmer in his eyes. She knew she couldn’t bring herself to meet them.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t… say anything you’ll regret later.”
“I won’t regret my words,” he said as calmly as possible. “I’ve rehearsed these lines so many times; I can’t just give up now.”
“Even t...
The contradiction of
The mind.
The hypocrisy of
The action.
The paradox of
The life.
The hand, mine,
Controls itself before me.
Quavering, trembling,
It reaches out against
My mind’s intentions.
My mind screams to stop,
Yet the action occurs.
My hand outstretched,
Returns to me,
Clenching
An irresistible
Bundle
Of…
chocolate.
Not the first time,
And knowingly
not the final time
Today....
Flight is not only reserved
For the winged creatures
Who fly at ease
In the inviting skies.
The nest is warm,
But the occupants out.
Today,
They hold an air
Of sentimentality and
Nostalgia,
As they let go
Of their own.
A new beginning arises;
The adult has awakened,
And the child is left behind.
Parents standing at the door,
Letting go
Of their awakened adult.
Flight....