my writing corner

The book is clutched in her hands, her fingers wrapped around it, the leather tong holding it closed between her second and third fingers. How she found it, hidden away, is beyond me, but there it is. In the pale darkness, she’s giving me a curious, almost amusing, look, as though she knows what is written on the pages. Lifting an eyebrow, her lips curve into a small smile. “What is this?” she asks me, her low, lilting voice soft. I remain silent, still surprised that she found the book, hoping she will find the answer in my silence. Moonlight filters in through the single window of our bedroom, silhouetting her from behind. I sigh, still staring at the book in her hands, as I sit down in the rocking chair next to the armoire. Leaning forward, her fingers fiddling with the leather thong wrapped around the book, she rests her elbows on her knees. Her eyes never leave my face, searching for an answer that isn’t there. With her face hidden in shadow, I can’t read her expression w...

Nothing is permanent. People leave their mark by making art, creating buildings that are made to last, leaving imprints of themselves. Everything gets washed from the memories of man, anyways, left only for the history books. The only thing that holds on to the remains of memories are the walls of ancient buildings on the brink of disappearing, and the ground they stand on. The basement of the hospital is hauntingly beautiful in its eerie emptiness; of course, there are people coming and going, but at night, hardly anyone is down here. Just a few lingering nurses and pharmacy workers, an occasional wandering someone or other who’s late in leaving from their 9-5, a random doctor or surgeon. Transient shift workers who come and go like the days of the week. In the safety of their work place, in the comfort given to them by badges and scrubs, they don’t think anything of what lurks in the shadows. The history of this hospital is old; it has just as many horror stories as it does...

An empty shell of what once was – Empty hallways, abandoned fairways, Shells of buildings, car bodies littering the roads – Leaving the abandoned town soulless and hollow, Cold to the outside world, As it is empty on the inside. It’s a backwater ghost town Forgotten by most And remembered unwillingly by some, Leaving their memories of what was To fill the cracks and crannies here. What happened is something nobody speaks of, Dark and horrific, Happening to the best of people. The eeriness of this town, Made more so by overgrown parking lots And gutted buildings that look soulless, Just a shell of a town, Seeps into you and grabs hold. Left to be taken over by the elements, Left to be forgotten by those who once loved it, This ghost town is no longer on any map, Fallen off the radar long ago, As though whoever once was here Left without a second thought. The dark energy hopes to tie you here. Stumbling upon it by accident, I have fou...

An empty shell of what once was – Soulless and hollow, Cold to the outside world, Empty on the inside - This town is long abandoned, Forgotten by most. Those who do remember Like to pretend it doesn’t exist. What happened here Is something nobody speaks of. Dark and horrific as they were, The events happened to the best of people. The eeriness of this town Seeps into you and grabs hold. The dark energy hopes to tie you here. The shadows dance With the memories of yesterday, The crumbled ruins of once grand buildings Whisper about the time that was; Ghosts appear and disappear in the fog, Reminiscing about the dark days, As the broken spirit pulls me in. Though tempting, The draw of darkness is teasing. But I listen; This town, left abandoned, Has a story to tell, However dark it may be. The grey rubble of broken down buildings Are a stark contrast to the fog. Overgrown crossroads and a railroad Lead dark paths through the r...

Immortality is but a dream. Ideas and words live on, As does a legacy left behind. We are never truly mortal; But immortality can never be achieved.             Immortality is just a dream.             We can never be unbound by the chains of humanity,             The cycles of the Universe.             Mortality suites us,             In the cyclical life of humanity.                         We are stuck between mortality and immortality,                         Overa...

Whole new worlds, faded memories, brilliant colors in quickly changing scenes. whether asleep or awake, i can never escape a dream. dreams about memories half-forgotten, the pictures yellowed in the corners, and the edges crumpled and bent, or dreams about my desires and passions, bright and vivid, leaving me yearning for something more. flashes of things in my mind, snippets of things unknown, forgotten, never seen, not understood; sometimes random things, beautiful, amazing, breathtaking, or ugly, sad, disgusting, scary. i am a dreamer. my mind flows with creativity, with crazy thoughts and unknown wants. it shows me things i never knew it could. my dreams float upwards, expand and fill the spaces between the stars, so big i can't contain them. i am a dreamer, i allow myself to escape, to want, desire, and run freely as i dream. i am a dreamer....

the colors of my dreams are bold, vibrant, alive. the colors of my dreams are dark, dull, slow. different every night, awash in the quicksilver rays of the moon, running on an empty blankness of a white canvas. the colors of my dreams inspire, drive, and awaken me; they show me something more, something that I long for; they give me something to live for. the colors of my dreams seep into the colors of my life. the colors of my dreams are the colors of my life.