Short stories & poems

I look at my house, well now old house, and I take a glimpse in my brain at all the memories that occurred here. I’ve gone broke. I can’t afford to live in my own place so now i have to live in a group home, sleep with other people, and i won’t have any privacy. I look down at my hand, one last chance to feel good. I open my drawer for the last time and see the red spectacular. My rose toy. I can’t bring her to the group home so she has to stay here. My dear esmeralda, my dear beauty, my baby, my joy, she’s given me so many good orgasms and such great times. I open my legs and let the rose take its action.

Now, my mom walks in and hears me screaming, “Don’t stop get it get it” and she says, “BABY!! DONT YOU SEE YOUR HURTING THE PEOPLE THAT LOVE YOU THE MOST?” And i reply “Yeah i do but hold on i’m- uh almost AHHH finished AHHHHHHHHH” I let out my juices and see my moms face drop in horror. She screams and leaves the room. “LEAVE THIS FAMILY!!! I NEVER WANNA SEE YOU AGAIN.” I felt a little sad but now i can use my toy all the time!

My rose toy and me can stay together. My dear rose.

Love, Esmerelda

They had been hiking with their class on a ‘field trip’ to the local middle-of-nowhere, and Ana had gotten a blister on her heel. Slowly, the brunette had dropped behind her friends. Kenan had noticed. Of course he had. He always seemed to be there, laughing, joking, flirting. The boy had slowed his pace to match the girl’s, and they walked down the trail in almost complete silence, broken only by the birds, crickets, and the occasional cow’s complaint. Eventually, Kenan had run in front of the girl and waved his arms. “Did you know I write music?” A familiar grin spread across his face as Ana scowled lightheartedly. “No.” “Yeah, I wrote a song about las tortillas de mi madre.” The boy slipped into his first language, and Ana nodded. When Kenan didn’t follow up his statement, Ana sighed and nudged his arm. “Ok, so what’s the en-“ “Well, I guess it was more of a wrap.” The boy inturrupted. Ana looked away, trying not to smile. He kept pulling stupid jokes out of nowhere, and she found it harder and harder not to laugh as he grinned at her. Kenan’s eyes widened with his grin as the girl’s shoulders started to shake. “Are you laughing?” He danced around her, but she dodged, hiding her face. “Come on, I finally made you laugh and you’re going to hide your pretty face?”
Ana squeaked as Kenan twirled her around. The joyful look on his face sent her into another round of giggles. She stumbled off of the path, and Kenan barked out a laugh. At that point, Ana had given up and was laughing to the point of tears, not at the joke, but the whole situation. The air was full of laughter until Kenan froze. Ana started to get up, but he held out his hand. “Stop!” “Why?” “Take my hand!” “No way!” “I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m trying to save your life!” “Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms stubbornly. “Please, Ana.” His near-black eyes were bright, not from laughter like they usually were, but with fear. “This isn’t the time to argue.” Ana shot a glance around, confused. She looked back at Kenan, and the panic written into his face resolved her doubts. When the girl reached out, the boy pulled her gently back onto the trail. As soon as Ana was back on her feet, Kenan shoved her behind him. “Walk. Slowly. Don’t run.” He breathed, calmer now that she was out of danger. Ana followed his quiet words, walking far enough down the path to be out of range of whatever Kenan had seen. When she turned around, he met her gaze before carefully backing up the path. As he reached her side, Kenan grabbed her hand and started sprinting down the trail. After they had run about a hundred feet, Ana pulled away from his grip. “What was it, Kenan?” The boy turned to her and replied by opening his arms. In any other situation, Ana would have refused, but she saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before. For all his calm exterior, the boy in front of her was terrified. She enfolded him a tight hug. He took the girl in his arms, heaving a sigh of relief as he accepted the comfort she offered. “What?” Ana gently removed herself from the boy, keeping her hands on his shoulders to steady him. Kenan repeated what he had mumbled a moment before, “Rattlesnake. It was behind you.” Ana’s eyes grew wide. “I- there- actually?” Her voice was shaky. Kenan nodded. The girl took a deep breath before smiling. “Thanks.” She stood on tiptoes for a moment, leaning forward as she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Kenan felt a shock running through him, originating from his face. From her lips. He stood stock still as Ana started down the path. She turned around, tilting her head. “You just gonna stand there til the snake catches up?” Kenan shook his head and rushed to catch up with the girl. Silence fell, but it was more comfortable than before. “Ana-“ He paused as she glanced at him. Meeting her gaze, he asked, “Take my hand?” Ana chuckled, and Kenan shot a grin back at her as he felt their fingers interlace.

The moon sits high in the sky looming over the sleepy town of Bridgewater. Just outside the city two rugged men stand outside of a house hidden in the trees. “Sullythis the house?” One of the men says. “You doubting my memory Bobby? I seen the man here walking in with a nice ole box had to be something nice. He was trying to be all sneaky-like.” Sully assures Bobby. Bobby lets out an anxious breath. “Alright then let’s be quick.” He puts his hand down on his holster. The two crouch down to obscure their approach. Shifting from shadow to shadow the men get to the front steps and Sully steps up first. A loud creak echoes on the steps. Sully tenses up and looks at Bobby. “Quiet.” Bobby fiercely whispers. They continue attempting to make as little noise as possible. Bobby inspects the front door noticing that it unlocked. Bobby and Sully look at eachother, Sully gives a thumbs up. Bobby gets a feeling of uncertainty as the door slowly opens and the two enter the house. Inside the house is dark faint moonlight peeking in the windows illuminate the front room. There is a staircase to the right of them and the living room is cluttered with furniture. There are trophy’s of animal heads adorning the walls of the home. An awful smell fills the room assaulting their senses. Sully pinches his nose. Looking around they can see the kitchen on the other end of the front room. Bobby points at Sully and directs him to go upstairs. Sully shakes his head in disapproval and then directs Bobby to go upstairs. Bobby’s eyes widen in frustration. Sully rolls his eyes and continues in the front room carefully stepping over the items cluttered in the house. “Sully.” Bobby growls in frustration. Sully continues into the front room curiously investigating some of the items. Bobby reluctantly looks at the steps then slowly takes a step up it. Bobby’s hand grips his holster tightly. Another step up the stairs. The stairs cry out as the creak echoes throughout the home. Bobby hesitates looking at the top of the steps. The top felt like miles away. Bobby slowly takes another step. The stairs remain silent. Bobby steps up, but this time a loud crash echoes from downstairs. Bobby looks down then back up the stairs. Bobby hastily gets the rest of the way up the stairs seeing the towering dark silhouette of a man in the hallway. Bobby is unable to move his feet. He withdraws his revolver from his holster and points it at the silhouette. “D-don’t move.” Bobby’s voice cracks. The silohuette puts its hands up. “That’s right.” Bobby takes a step forward trying to control the shaking in his legs. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back and we’ll make this quick.” Bobby’s hand trembles. The silhouette obeys. “Get down on your knees.” Bobby’s voice began to ooze with confidence. The silhouette goes down to one knee. “Both of em.” Bobby inches toward the man. “You good up there?” Sully’s voice comes from downstairs. Bobby stops but still keeps his revolver pointed at the silohuette. “Yeah I got the guy up here.” The silhouette takes Bobby’s moment of distraction jumping up and charging Bobby. The man grabs Bobby’s wrist wrapping his fingers around and pushing it to the side. Bobby kicks the man desperately. The man pushes Bobby back to the wall. Bobby attempts to cry out but a blow to his head from the man’s fist muffles his cry. The sounds of bones crunching as the fist pummels Bobby’s head into the wall. Bobby’s grip on the revolver weakens. The man picks Bobby up and throws him down the stairs. Bobby bounces off the steps and he drops the revolver. The revolver gleams in the moonlight just feet away from Bobby. The man stomps down the stairs toward Bobby. His body battered he can not find the strength to move. “S-s-s…” His voice is muffled from his face swelling. Bobby looks into the kitchen to see Sully rushing to him crushing the strewn items under his feet. The man steps to the bottom of the stairs and Sully dives for the revolver grabbing it. The man jumps on top of sully. A loud pop rings throughout the house. The man slumps over and sully stands up and fires two more shots from the revolver. Into the man. The man lets out a subtle groan before he lays there motionless. Sully looks at the man in horror. “No… no no no.” Sully’s voice trembles. “W-what?” Bobby’s makes out spitting blood from his mouth. Sully investigates the body. “This isn’t the guy I saw earlier.” Sully’s voice is choked up. “I think… we hit the wrong house…” Sully’s voice trembles. Bobby looks at the body of the man on the ground through his swollen face. Bobby’s breathing labors as thoughts rush through his head. “Bobby we gotta get outta here.”

The cool wind whips our faces, making us feel as if we have no skin at all. Just raw, exposed bone and tissue - as if we were one of the people caught in the many fires we’ve learned about here. Our bodies made of wood, we’d crumble and then be rebuilt, to crumble and rebuild again. Our feet step on sand, dirt, and stone where boys, now long dead, once played and swam. Our eyes see trees and parks and storefronts, but how many other eyes have looked out at this city and seen different things in the same exact places? Different experiences in the same air space. We are travelers, here for only a moment, where some people spent their whole lives. Like coins in a contained pond, we add our memories to them.

The wind whipped through the town with sharp cracks, thrashing the creaky wooden doors and nearly tearing them off their hinges. Not a sound echoed through the dusty buildings as the sun reached it's peak in the sky. Horace was sitting at the bar, nursing a small bottle of beer in the corner. He was watching the townsfolk nervously hover by the windows, watching for something. "New to this town?" The bartender asked Horace with a smirk. She was cleaning a broken glass, eyeing the windows every now and then with wide eyes. Horace nodded quietly. "We're waiting for the beast to leave." "What's that?" Horace grumbled, still drinking a light hangover away. "We're not sure. All we know is to stay indoors during high noon. Even then it's a gamble on whether or not you'll-" The bartender's eyes suddenly shot to the closest window as something crashed into the building, sliding over the countertops and rolled in front of Horace. It was a horses head, torn off from its body. It's eyes stilled rolled in its skull, and Horace felt chills throughout his body when he realized it was HIS horse. The bartender grimaced. "It kills anything it sees." Horace looked away, spitting in the spittoon before standing up shakily. He grabbed his shotgun. A drunkard saw him approaching the door and tried to stop him, leaning sloppily on his shoulder. "H-hey, you can'd go out 'tere! Is dang'rous!" Horace glared at the drunkard and shoved him, pushing his way through the throng of people as they begged him to stop. As he made his way outside, the sky went dark like nighttime. Hot dust swirled around his old boots, pulling him towards the center of town. Coal-red clouds covered the sun and moved at lightning speed despite the wind being dead. Horace looked around in the darkness, struggling to see much of anything. The buildings that had once made up the town of Galeville had seemed to disappear, leaving him in an empty abyss of a dark desert. The sand seemed to burn at his heels, biting like snakes. Suddenly, an icy breath sank its cold fangs into Horace's skin, making him yelp in surprise. He whipped around, raising the gun with expert fingers, but found nothing. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Horace realized he could see his breath rising into the air. Sweat dripped down, dripping into the corners of his mouth. He swore under his breath, closing his eyes. He strained his ears, listening for anything approaching, and heard the distinct sound of a horse galloping. Horace dropped to one knee, twisting his body quickly and firing off a shot behind him, his eyes still shut tight. A faint howl rewarded his efforts, giving him a rush of adrenaline. Horace peeked an eye open to see a shimmer of a person hunched over, whining like an animal. He inspected its faint form, noting the translucent nature. "Just a common ghost." He muttered, firing off another shot, this time directly through the head. The ghost's body shuddered as the bullet went through, causing it to turn around and charge him with a final attempt at blood. The ghost wailed and screamed like a dying woman, filled with agony and pain. Though Horace was used to these types of sounds, it still sent painful shudders through his spine. He gritted his teeth and fired another shot through the heart, sending bits of ghost all across the land. He stood up, panting heavily as the clouds began to return to a normal white fluffy nature. The rest of the land was bathed in sunlight once more, and the town returned to its normal state. People ran out into the streets once they saw him, cheering happily. Horace nodded, approaching the bartender. "H-how in Gods name did you do that?" She asked, smitten by him. Horace shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. "It's what I'm paid to do, ma'am. Does this town have any horses for sale?" Horace asked, feeling a drop of cold sweat down his neck as the bartender got closer to him. She grinned, resting a freezing hand on his gun. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

In western Nevada there is a beautiful desert. Many thing of the desert as a dull brown hellscpae. If you take a moment to look closer you’ll see the desert is a mosaic of hues. Stunning hills cut through the dry, sandy landscape. Different colored rock beds stacked like a dirt-colored cake. Even the fauna are dressed in bright colors. Geckos with scales like the hills of Ireland; birds with feathers resembling the wares of a candy store. On a clear day, the sky might even make a scuba diver homesick. Stunning sunsets glow and flow like an erupting volcano. When the sun sets at the end of a desert day, the darkness can almost make one forget how much color uses to be visible around them.

Hi I’m writing this in my journal I’m at this abandoned barnyard and there is a man walking through the corn maze so I decided to go there too it seems suspicious all alone then the man started to sing

In this corn maze somthings alive In this corn maze somthing happened In this corn maze things have changed

Then his voice got darker and it started to freak me out

In this corn maze it has begun In this corn maze he shall rise In this corn maze he was here In this corn maze he will come back

I started hyperventilating scared of what he was chanting so of of extreme fear i walked towards the serious voice

In this corn maze he shall rise

Then i heard other people chanting after him i went to the scene 🎬 But all it was was a chant for the angels above so I decided to join

In this corn maze this is a place for beliefs In this corn maze we will be forever blessed

-the corn maze

Descobri que minha filha pretende se mudar, então decidi empacotar alguns dos brinquedos favoritos dela quando criança, como recordação da alegre infância que desejo que ela tenha tido. Não que eu não fosse uma boa mãe, mas nossa relação era difícil. Eu tentava ao máximo, mas ela nunca foi a mesma depois do acidente no circo.

Ao procurar no empoeirado sótão, no qual eu não mexo faz décadas, encontrei, soterrado por revistas antigas, meu baú de roupas da minha época como domadora de leões circense. Tudo está no lugar. Me lembra dos bons tempos, quando minha preocupação era apenas o sabor de pipoca que eu queria. Acho que se não fosse pelo acidente, cujas consequências são pagas até os dias atuais, eu ainda estaria lá: trabalhando ao lado de quem eu amava e fazendo o que eu amava todos os dias.

Penso todas as noites se fui eu que deixei o portão dos leões aberto. Será eu a culpada por toda aquelas mortes? Ainda torturo-me com as possíveis respostas. Não deveria ter aberto esse baú, apenas trouxe pensamentos ruins à mim. Antes de fechá-lo, notei um papel sobre minhas camisas. Não o tinha visto antes. Parece uma carta. Com cuidado abro-a e espanto-me ao perceber que o escritor dela é, conforme a assinatura, meu marido:

"Querida, não posso mais mentir para vocês, eu não quero mais essa vida. Tudo que fiz ainda me atormenta. Não posso viver assim. Leve nossa criança à um local seguro. Hoje encerrarei o ciclo que começou anos atrás. Amo vocês mais do que tudo no mundo, por favor, cuidem-se. - seu amado trapezista".

A data é do dia do acidente. Meu rosto derrepente começa a ficar úmido e logo as lágrimas começam a cair. O choro amargo se espalha pelas minha bochechas e meu coração aperta dolorosamente. Minha visão escurece. O silêncio é absoluto.

The horses in the stable went wild; they knew of the coming storm.

The cops came for my mama that day, dragging her away in rusted handcuffs that seemed too tight.

"Don't worry," she told me with a kiss to my forehead.

"I'll get an appeal," she told me.

I didn't know what an appeal was back then and I didn't know now. All I knew was that mama didn't get one.

The cops told me mama was taken for manslaughter. I think they told me the definition, but as a kid the ripe age of 9 and 3 quarters with ADHD, I forgot.

All I knew was that mama was gone. After that, I went through cousins, aunts, uncles, and foster homes like they were underwear.

Three months later, the cops were back again.

Not with mama. They came back with news.

A prison riot. The funeral would be in two days.

What a way to spend your tenth birthday.

And 8 years later, nothing had changed.

Mama lived in the cemetery by our old farm with Meme, Papa, Daddy, and my younger sister June.

And Johnny Jackson was without a family.

Um saltitante ser aquático, comedor de algas e farelo de pão, sempre teve planos maiores e mais ambiciosos do que ficar naquele minúsculo aquário monótono no qual seu dono o deixava. A atraente visão da janela, representando para nós apenas árvores secas e uma estrada escaldante, era um paraíso cobiçado aos olhos do dono de barbatanas ansiosas. Seu dono, confinado em um cubículo, trabalhando todo segundo e esgotando cada energia que possui, observava o aquário enquanto descansava atirado no sofá. Como ele almejava o sossego e a despreocupação que um aquário proporciona aos seus habitantes. Parece até que a vida, independente de sua forma, cria desafios proporcionalmente exatos para cada tipo de ser.