People say, “Time heals all wounds.” My grandmother used to say it. My mom has said it to me. I’ve seen it on the internet, and I’ve heard it, once or twice, from friends. It’s such a common phrase that there are people who accept it as fact. I used to be one of them, … Continue reading Time
Category: Short Story
Drowning
There are things which the body needs that it will strive for regardless of the risks. With strength born of a primal urge, it will pursue these things, even if the mind that governs it resists with what little strength it has. The body knows what it needs in order to survive, and when it … Continue reading Drowning
Update
Due to my work schedule today and tomorrow, I will moving my next post to Sunday.
Christa
Christa’s parents never returned home, and the police were never able to tell her, for certain, what had happened to them. They could only tell her three things: that it was her father’s blood, in the basement; that her mother had held the knife she had found on the kitchen floor; and that her parents … Continue reading Christa
Broken
Things which are damaged never really get repaired. Jasmina meditates on this as her husband speaks, knowing that what he broke between them will never heal. He struck her. That is enough, for her, to consider their relationship damaged beyond repair. She doesn’t really listen to him. His words don’t matter, because she’ll never forget … Continue reading Broken
The Silence of Apathy
The Mask The Mask, Continued Christa knows that her parents don’t love her. She has known it for a very long time, and though she has grown accustomed to the idea, though she has accepted it as an unchanging fact about her life, she will never be comfortable with it. Like the lingering effects of … Continue reading The Silence of Apathy
The Mask, Continued
After The Mask received some positive feedback, I decided to give it a continuation. Enjoy. She is dissatisfied. She has been for years, but previously, it has been a sort of comfortable dissatisfaction: unpleasant, yet familiar, and therefore less uncomfortable than perhaps it should have been. Her life up to this point has been bland and flavorless. … Continue reading The Mask, Continued
The Mask
His hands are driven by the fervor of obsession. It is the same unrelenting force that drives a drug addict to push the needle into his flesh and a gambler to hemorrhage her funds on the chance that he might, someday, see some benefit. It’s the same toxic pressure that forces an obsessive-compulsive to repeat … Continue reading The Mask
You Don’t Love Me
“You don’t love me.” She sits on a padded dining chair that she has brought to the living room from the kitchen. Her arms are folded over her breasts. Her left foot bobs in the air, her legs crossed in the form she has perfected over the years to look at once the most elegant … Continue reading You Don’t Love Me
Fractured
There is a girl in his life. He believes that he loves her. Or rather, he believes that he could love her, if only he could be a bit more sure of her. She lives on the other side of a wall of imperfect glass. It is clear, but in the way of a crystalline … Continue reading Fractured
Daydreams 