I dreamt of her two nights in a row. The first night, I saw her leaving a train and our eyes met - I forgot to look away - and her smile melted all the tightness in my chest into warmth. She hugged me and sparkled so brightly that I thought I’d go blind - … Continue reading and I wanted to
Tag: creative writing
That Woman
by Ella She had her scarf tightly wrapped around her face as she joined me under the heat lamps. It’s cold,” she said, “It’s cold.” I nodded in agreement, exaggeratedly, so that she could see my acknowledgment through my own fastened scarf. She continued speaking about little things as though I had given her more … Continue reading That Woman
Outpatient
by Ian Watts “I don’t want to talk about it,” Adam mutters, shifting awkwardly as he sits. His suede jacket is folded over crossed arms, clasping it to his chest like a flotation device. He is embarrassed at the words as soon as he speaks them; they make him feel small, like a child petulantly … Continue reading Outpatient
You Can Trust Me
by JP “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said quietly. She paused, blinked; registered that I had interrupted her. Something flashed across her expression--irritation? But she smiled warmly and pulled me closer to her, dispelling the thought. I felt a pang of guilt. “I-I’m sorry….” My lip quivered, and I looked away. “Oh, … Continue reading You Can Trust Me
Walking Canvas
i keep dreaming of ink flowing across my body a never-ending cascade of art, permanently etched, making me smile when i wake up in the morning and shuffle to the mirror, rub the sleep from my eyes and remember that i'm a walking canvas. last night, i dreamt that my mother and i went to … Continue reading Walking Canvas
Tell Me a Story
Recently, we've all had pages and pages of information forced under our noses. After all of the (important, though exhausting) discourse, I've been wanting to read something a little shorter, and sweeter. I asked anyone willing to collaborate to send me, in no more than 200 words, a short and sweet story. They delivered, and … Continue reading Tell Me a Story
“Red Couch, Black Polka Dots. Just a Couch.”
Red couch. Black polka dots. Red couch. Black polka dots. He figures if he keeps repeating it over and over he'll believe that's all it is. A red couch, with black polka dots connected by slight lines. She'd traced those lines countless times, she said it helped her think. Just a couch. It shouldn't make … Continue reading “Red Couch, Black Polka Dots. Just a Couch.”
