-
The click reverberated in my memory as I twisted the key in the lock. My morning walk had left me chilled and oddly unsettled, the empty streets and drawn curtains of my neighbors’ houses feeling more oppressive than peaceful today. I felt my dad’s hand on my shoulder as I leaned into the door;
-
Hey, everyone! Chapter 4 is still in the works, writer’s block strikes again, but in the meantime, here are the first two installments of a poetry/image collection I am working on. These were inspired by a Facebook post I saw once. Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next part of Evelyn’s story!
-
The next few months were largely spent explaining to my mother how I had never been it for Kyle and desperately trying to convince her that he had never been it for me either. That our love for Aunt Jules and my mom had been the chain holding our futures together. Without one of
-
The next Monday, second hour came the same way it always did. I felt lightheaded as I approached the door to Mrs. Whitaker’s room. It was wide open for passing period, allowing me to peer inside the room before having to physically brave the space that, for the past eight months, had been my
-
Author’s Note: Hello readers! I’m excited to share the beginning of a story that’s been taking shape in my mind. “Chapter one” is the first installment of what I envision becoming a longer work. I’ve decided to publish this story chapter by chapter, week by week, as it develops. This is a project that I’m
-
I love you said the snowflake to the sun I love you but it hurts it burns I love you your warmth your brightness I love you but it hurts it burns I love you said the sun to the snowflake I love you but it hurts to watch you melt I love you your
-
Deep brown curls tucked neatly behind pierced ears Blue eyes never shadowed with gloom A woman of strength stood. A glance into the kitchen and A sight to be seen— She spun From counter to counter humming songs only she could hear Too soon her eyes seemed dull Her smile not able to reach quite
-
The door of the shop swung open, causing a high-pitched bell to ring out into a room filled with the deep, robust smell of coffee and sweet fragrances coming from the row of pastries lining the counter. Several heads popped up from their conversations, computers, and phones, assessing the new arrival. The woman approached
-
Perhaps I’ll be enough, when I can Relish in the pain, of Eating far too little, and Telling everyone I’m okay, as I pull my corset Tighter, my body Yearns to be free. Torn is my identity As I paint, pluck, and prod Sculpting their idea of beauty To cover up my flaws Each fracture
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Ink & Interruptions 