_The air here hums with a silent pull,_
_Not magic, but something far more cruel._
_A pact unspoken, a vow undone,_
_Where the earth eats secrets one by one._
__
_The rivers don’t flow, they claw their way,_
_Through soil that sings of a darker day._
_And the trees are not guardians, but sentries who see,_
_The sins of the living, the price of the free._
__
_Tene’s heart beats beneath restless sto...
Yeah, a score I never signed up for. Doctors love the word _fine_. It’s clipped, dismissive, and vaguely authoritative—like a slammed gavel closing out a difficult case—_fine. _Full stop. Even as I’m sitting here, in a hospital by the way, sweat prickling at the back of my neck, feeling like something scraped from the bottom of a shoe. That’s where I’m at: David Marshall, age forty-five, being tol...
They don’t remember how they got here. There isn’t really a “they”—just scattered voices, a splintered awareness drifting through endless, twisted neon walls that pulse and flicker like a heartbeat. The maze stretches out in every direction, woven from raw thoughts, hidden fears, and secrets buried so deep that even the mind itself recoils. The air is thick, pressing in on them, as colors throb li...
Micah doesn’t just move; he infiltrates. His presence lingers before it’s seen—a chill that prickles your skin, though you dismiss it as mere unease. Watching him is like watching a cat study a bird: _silent_, _poised_, almost _elegant_ in his restraint. Yet his intent is unmistakable. He doesn’t ever strike outright. Instead, he waits, gauges, and catalogues what pulls you in, finding the cracks....
while chasing your ghost, i became one myself—
translucent as morning fog,
the space between breaths,
or like the clatter of a dead-end street after midnight.
you were always good at hollowing things out:
rooms, promises, the space behind my ribs.
now i practice your art in reverse,
carving myself thin enough to follow.
i grew into the absence you planted,
let it fester, untamed, in the darknes...
We are born as broken pieces,
Fractured stars,
Clutching our corners,
Thinking the world ends at the edges
Of our own skin.
In quiet moments,
We hear the hum
Of something larger
Whispering beneath our ribs.
Our hands, when they touch,
Are maps unfolding
In the dark.
Alone, we are notes
In a forgotten melody—
A sound so small
It vanishes on the wind.
But together, we rise.
We become the song
Th...
I never thought I'd end up here, working in a mansion with more bathrooms than I’ve had hot meals, but life has a weird sense of humor. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not complaining. After years of traveling, sleeping in hammocks, and living out of a backpack, I figured a change could be interesting. And what a change it is.
The mansion itself looks like someone gave a five-year-old an unlimited budget ...
When I died, my shadow decided they would take over… and at first, it was exhilarating. Watching from a distance, I saw it step into my life without hesitation, free from the fear and doubt that had held me back for so long. It navigated the world with an ease I never had, walking through familiar places as if it had always belonged there. The shadow lived boldly, engaging in conversations I’d onc...
I found the journal on a rainy afternoon, hidden in the far corner of the attic. I wasn’t looking for it—just rifling through the old boxes that had been collecting dust for as long as I could remember. My mother’s things, remnants of a past she’d never really shared. The journal was tucked beneath a stack of yellowed papers; its leather cover was cracked and worn. I hesitated before picking it up...
