Spiders

He had a nest of spiders living in his bathroom. I say nest, but it was really just three spiders who each had their own web. The spiders were black, brown, and white and each had a different part of the bathroom. He never could see them, but he didn't look. He never looked. Even if he did look, he wore glasses. They prevented him from seeing anything other than his toothbrush, which was the only reason he every entered the bathroom. I made him promise that he wouldn't kill the spiders if he ever saw them, he told me to go to sleep. I responded by telling him that we swallow spiders in our sleep.

Princess

I think this story should have a princess. Not only this story, but in every story. Just so you know it is fiction and takes place in a different world than this one. Our reality has no princesses. Princesses belong to better worlds than this one. Worlds that include time traveling, and space traveling, and most importantly plumbers. I think this story should have a princess in it. 

Books

Did you know that I have two works of creative writing in book form?

No?

Then you haven't read the about me page.

The first book is called Living Nightmares and Nonsense Dream. It is a collection of short stories and silly writings.

My second book is called Murder for Children. It is a short book about a murder and the detective solving it written with short world so that even those learning to read can enjoy this death, plus it comes with 12 photos! Hurray!

Broken Glass

Broken glass covered the floor. We tried to sweep it up but we didn't make much of an effort. I say we, but I really mean he. He swept the glass into a pile, leaving pieces scattered about. He was doing everything to keep me together. I found this funny because he was broken too. He just knew how to hide it. I was just so broken I couldn't hide the cracks. Still I hadn't fallen apart, like the glass bowl that litters our floor. I say our, like I own it too. But I don't. He owns it. I stay here. Much like the sofa that I pretend is my bed. I own nothing. What I do own is my life, yet no one really trust me with it. I own it much like a child owns a cat. At the end of the day someone else is still making sure it is feed. Sad. The bowl broke without warning. Just sitting firmly, flatly on the counter. It crashed. No one touched it. Maybe we all brake without warning.

Fire (Part 2)

I couldn’t breathe my throat was dry. I looked to my nightstand I have learned recently to always keep a glass of water there. I have gotten used to keeping a glass of water nearby for the dry throats I have been waking up with. The nightstand was completely empty. My books and lamp were gone and most importantly my water was gone. I started panicking. I couldn’t breathe. I darted to my door. It was sealed shut. I slammed myself against the door. If I didn’t get water I would die. I could feel death tapping on my shoulder.

Click here for Part One

A letter to my paper

You are white piece of paper, white and so very lacking of knowledge. I am full of knowledge and idea but I cannot be white. Once you learn you lose that innocence. I ate but I am hungry. I am always hungriest when I eat. I am never hungry when I don’t eat. I always thought it would be the reverse.  I want to give you an idea and turn you into something resembling myself. But my mind goes blank and pretends to be something that isn’t tainted with thoughts, something resembling you.  I guess I cannot bring my self to taint you.

Tired

My eyes are heavy. It seems like I am always tired. I should have done my work yesterday, but I spent the day in bed crying. Friday I did the same. I think I got sick in the study, but that could have been a dream. My belongings live on the chair, he keeps saying that I need to clean them up but they have nowhere to go. I think we both no that cleaning them up means I have to move them out. Something that neither of us want to talk about. But our time is running out. I cried all last night. He licked my face.

Fire (Part 1)

The fire was in my hand and I needed to save it. I had to save it. Or the world end. My world at least. But I my world was already ending. I just had to save the fire. That was my one task. I tried to escape. Went down an ally.  He caught me.

My eyes flew open. It wasn’t morning yet but I wasn’t going to back to sleep. My body was shaking and my nose was stuffed. I was crying. I didn’t know how long I was having the dream but fire was consuming me. I was dreaming of fire every night: fire burning random objects, fire burning me, me smuggling fire out of this place. I was always stopped. He always stopped me. Then I woke up.

Blue

I bought new underwear so I didn't have to laundry and I stopped wearing socks because I dont have any. I cried more that week then any other week. Not because of my lack of laundry but in an addition to it. I would have to thank him for putting up with me and for always putting up with me. I cried half the night because I had to. Crying makes people feel better. Yet it made me cry even more because I was a nuisance keeping everyone up. I hardly notice the sirens from the cop cars. They drive by so often.

Baby

I was supposed to give the baby a name- any name- but it was harder than it seemed. I wanted to name it Wednesday, but my father freaked out and started to yell and demanded to know why I tried to be a freak. When he yells he grows really tall and it isn’t fun. So I named the baby Lilith and took it to the dentist. After it cried every five minutes at the dentist, the baby was left in the closet overnight. I have no mothering skill. When I returned the crying baby, it was announced that I killed it. I responded with locking the baby in a closet overnight wouldn’t have killed a real baby. I put my head down on the desk and imagined robots taking my teacher hostage. 

boston

It is storming in Boston. Maybe it is not a storm but the weather is certainly not pleasant there. Hardly a motivating fact to finishing my application. It is what I am meant to do but I am a bit cross that my fate isn't to be in nice weather. Maybe there will be dancing. I should be studying and applying. I should be wearing pants. What happened to my life? It is about as messy as my room. Good thing I live alone or maybe that only makes it worse. I pull my Econ book up from the floor beneath my desk causing a red panda, an empty box and a scarf that were using the big book as support to fall to the floor and take its place. I stare at the book unopened. I am late for something, but I am not sure what.

Robot

The robot was mad because I had its feather. I couldn’t give it back. Surrendering was not an option. The robot gave a warning in its robot voice, the alarm from my phone  screeched,  and I screamed. The mixture of noise startled me from sleep and woke up everyone else in ear shot. I was asked if I was OK. I nodded in response and stuck my toothbrush in my mouth. I just wanted to move on from my dream and start my day. I don’t drink coffee, but I go to Starbucks every morning, just to be around people. We all type on our computers and ignore each other, yet it makes me feel a part of something. You have two minutes until you have to return. Names of drinks that I have never had are called out and people rush to the counter. She said specifically to drag you in there. I drink my water and check my email. I have to take her to get shots today at 4:15. I go to write this in my day planner; however, it is lost in the bottom of my bag. I try to dig in my bag without calling attention to myself. It didn’t work. Spilling your bag all over the floor of a busy Starbucks is not a way to go unnoticed, but it is a way to find your day planner. I also found the negative of the photo we took in class. We had to squeeze together. The awkwardness made us laugh leading to a good photo, but the negative was covered in goop of a snot coloring that was left over from developing the instant photo and it tainted the image with disgust.  I put the negative away with the rest of the stuff from my bag and went back to typing on my computer with the rest of the Starbucks visitors. 

The red box

The red box of cheese stands proudly while hogging half the sofa. I am not sure why the box was on the sofa but it is in my spot. I dislike the red box not only because it is in my spot, but also for what it is. Cheese shouldn’t come in a red box. In fact, cheese shouldn’t come in any kind of box. I am offered the cheese from the red box, but I refuse. Someone comments on how I don’t do dairy, taking away from my protest of the red box. Someone else announces that we are going play a game. I shake my head and escape to the kitchen. I have a hard time following rules and a harder time following rules. There are flowers thrown into a mug in the midst of the chaos of dirty dishes. The flower’s petals are soft almost like human skin, I noted as I petted the flower. Mind started to drift to dead people and how their skin disappears. maybe dead peoples skin turns into flower petals. I announced this to the group and was answered with a brief silence and they resumed with their previous conversation.

Freedom

I might be afraid of being alone. Something I never thought I would say. But. I might be afraid of being alone. It is not that I am lonely or need others. I don't trust myself and I am afraid of what I may become. I am afraid that when left to myself I will warp into something completely out of control and never be free again. Weird, right? It has to be weird. For me to fear freedom because it leads to the lost of freedom. That has to be weird