The watch ticks relentlessly. Even if it sounds silly, I always feel that the hands wave to me as they circle the face of numbers in an eternal loop.

It’s nothing but a small pocket watch; I’ve cradled it in my pockets on a daily basis for as long as I can remember. But, the catch is that it has a quality like nothing I’ve seen before: with it I can control the life spans of those I’ve interacted...

My legs are numb, my fingers are limp, and I feel paler than a ghost when I wake up in a cold sweat.

My heart continues to race as my eyes adjust to the dim room, illuminated by a single night light that brightens the darkest corner of my apartment. My sensibility arrives, and I recognize my closet door, ajar to reveal my finest shirts and dresses that solemnly hang upon stray hooks.

My clock re...

He’s high up—it makes my stomach churn, but it almost looks fun.

“You alright?” I shout.

He looks around. His eyes meet mine, and he tilts his head.

I thought he might not have heard me. I question him with thumbs-up, because he looks around my age. He nods to the gesture.

The blue sky glows against his back. The wind wants to knock him down, but he continues to shuffle over the concrete wall....

I never live unless I’m writing.

And not just these diary entries—I mean stories; books and novels of fantasies and legends, originalities beyond comprehensible means, my own imagination spurring out on ink and paper in between the lines. I may write of my greatest wishes, deepest fears, finest thoughts.

I write of the rain; the way it falls on the contents of the Earth to nourish them to their ...

“Nope.” I shake my head and hand the carrot back to my mother.

“Let’s try an onion.” She saunters over to the refrigerator as if nothing’s wrong—as if I’m not in the midst of losing one of my key senses. “Here.”

I spit carrot bits into the sink. A month ago, I would have refused the onion. Now, I’m desperate to taste something.

I take the onion into my hands and bite down like it’s an apple. M...

One foot. Then the other.

Again.

One foot. The other.

Repeat.

Step, step. Good.

“Great, that’s enough for today.”

That’s what Lindsay said earlier. She’s my physical therapist, and even though I’m supposed to call her Mrs. Howard, I don’t. She’s nice enough, though sometimes she also tries to be my psychological therapist when she makes me tell her about my life. I hate when she does that.

...

Since his birth I have been;

I assist his cloudy days

Until sunshine prevails,

I illuminate his darkest nights

Until copious stars break through

I am his light—I am his lion

Audaciously confident

Fierce in some force,

Aiding he who grows

Like the seeds of a garden

Companionship he participates in;

Others are beyond my control

But well he chooses with them—

Spirits wielding blades of kindness

Tha...

“Please.”

“There is nothing to plead for.”

“I can give you anything you want.”

“There is nothing that I want.”

“Please.”

“Say that word again and see what happens.”

“Okay.”

…

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Let me take your pain away.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You do not have a choice.”

“I’m begging you.”

“Don’t.”

“If you unlock the door we could arrange something.”

“That would be idiotic.”

“But it would...

“One more step and I’ll slit her throat.”

A wave of unprecedented laughter escaped Syrus’s mouth, and he shrugged and slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I don’t care about her. She’s nobody.”

Erin tightened his grip around the knife at the girl’s throat. “Don’t test me. She’s the last healer your city has.”

“She’s not who she says she is.”

“You‘re lying.”

“Fine,” Syrus snorted. ...

It’s dark here.

Soggy, almost. No. Musty? I don’t know. The world is vague, except for a few gleams of dots and patterns that occasionally cross my vision. Otherwise, it’s just a gray haze that I lie in, until, that is, it falters into another reality.

Losing consciousness is a waiting game that takes time—the longer you think about it the longer it takes. The longer your heart races in exciteme...