Beauty and the Benign (Short story)

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━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.” 

– Haruki Murakami 

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The stream echoed through the forest, the water rushing and falling over the rocks, one by one and yet all at once, creating a perfect harmony with the crickets and frogs hidden in the grassy brush. The summer was deep enough for there to be fireflies, scattering the air like fallen stars that couldn’t get back to the skies. … Read the rest >>> “Beauty and the Benign (Short story)”

The Tragic Organ Player (short story)

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A melancholy organ melody had echoed through Broadway Avenue every Sunday night for more than one hundred years. 

When the music had originally begun in 1823, the townsfolk were overcome with interest in the mysterious talent who played; how anyone could hit the keys with such tragic passion was truly remarkable. Seasoned musicians were the first to notice the darkness of the chords, the minor keys and chords that made up wordless tunes of death, sorrow, and misery.… Read the rest >>> “The Tragic Organ Player (short story)”

Red Light, Green Light (short story)

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The bachata club off of 37th was a mix of darkness and light; the beat of the music disrupting the heart’s natural rhythm, the red and green spotlights sweeping across the room sending mixed signals.  

It had been the longest fourteen months that Evelynn had ever remembered. Even after all this time, the city still proved to be heartless and distant, filled to the brim with scurrying ants disguised as people, all of them climbing the hologram of the corporate ladder.… Read the rest >>> “Red Light, Green Light (short story)”

Writing as Therapy: Imaginary Conversations (Writing 101)

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INTRODUCTION

Human beings are complex animals that have the gift – and the curse – of multilevel consciousness. We have our immediate consciousness, which processes everything in the moment; and on top of that, we have the subconscious and the unconscious, processing things that we’re not even aware we’re processing. 

Our brain is constantly processing these different levels of consciousness at the same time, and regardless of our maturity and wisdom, it’s impossible to process everything all at once.… Read the rest >>> “Writing as Therapy: Imaginary Conversations (Writing 101)”

Don’t Look (short story)

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His eyes wandered where they shouldn’t have.

Benji barely even noticed the poorly produced indie rock dripping out of the bar ceiling speakers anymore, and he had even forgotten how much he hated the peach and crimson lights on the ceiling that were tinting the colors of his paintings on the wall. He couldn’t even continue to fake small talk with his patrons anymore, even if they had come all over the city just to this horrid, useless bar to see his latest work.… Read the rest >>> “Don’t Look (short story)”

Demon Prince (Scene)

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She couldn’t help but notice the dark ring of crimson that caressed the edges of his lips even before he drank the wine. She wondered if all demons had such a delicate curve to their bottom lip, or a similar sharp point on the edges.

They must have. It was the only way a demon could speak so smooth and sharp at the same time.

“This is the first time you’ve looked at me like that,” he commented with a victorious smile, looking at the wine in his glass.… Read the rest >>> “Demon Prince (Scene)”

Inhale (poem)

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Temptation was the inhale.

There was charcoal in his eyes, ashes from the darkness burning within him. And the longer I held his gaze, the clearer I saw my own sins – my demons no longer hiding.

As he approached, I was breathless from his squared shoulders and narrowed eyes, as if the lust aching under my skin was a challenge to be conquered. His musk dark and leather, he controlled my senses; every sound drowned out from his lips parting.… Read the rest >>> “Inhale (poem)”