Category Archives: Short Stories

One Last Round

The truth is, you have lived so many lives that you are too exhausted to finish this one. And, just as each and every one of those lifetimes was written in stone…this journey has a purpose that goes far beyond the finish line. Maybe you weren’t meant to get through this life in one piece.

Perhaps, you were born into turmoil of text to shatter the very verses that bind you to this Earth by wearing out your last bit of breath with truths aching to etch themselves in time. Because all of those tarnished and chipped away parts of you followed each and every existence that your soul has known, until you couldn’t fit new ones anymore. And all of that knowledge you collected came with heartbreaks and pain that corroded at your pieces as the lives passed by like nightmares. And, you knew with this one, didn’t you? You always knew that fate, far stronger than any human life and ruthless to the core, was giving you one last round…

This is Me Screaming

Staring at an empty screen, with eyes that are glossy and a soul that is throbbing–I knock back the drink in my hand in silence.

This is me screaming.

We go to bed…Well, I stay on the couch. You encourage me to follow you.  I roll over.

This is me screaming.

I get up, time and time again to wander an empty house without a sound. I grasp for an understanding, a purpose.

This is me screaming.

Tears pour down my cheeks, as I pace to wind down the thrum of terrors that play like a movie inside my head.

This is me screaming.

I finally walk the steps to the bedroom we should be sharing and stare into the darkness at your blanketed figure. I try words, but my mouth won’t move.  I am frozen where I stand, taking on the damage around me.

I force myself to turn and take the stairs back to the cycle that awaits me each and every night.

This is me screaming…and you still fell asleep.

It Was My Turn to Dig Again

It was my turn to dig again.  I maneuvered myself to catch the shovel, half dropped and half nudged in my direction.  The handle was wet, from the exertion that most definitely came with the upraising of dirt.  Gripping on, I didn’t look at the figure standing beside me.  This was not a job that required thinking, just doing.  I held on, put my foot to the shovels back, and drove in with the magnitude of a well-oiled machine.  I had done this sort of digging before, unfortunately.  But, this would be the biggest hole.  I did not permit my eyes to move from the task at hand–Not to what would go there, and not to what surrounded us.  In and out the shovel plunged, as my strength withstood the mountains of soil that I excavated from that ground.  I watched the hole thicken and grow in size as I continued the journey.  Darkness folded in on us, and I watched the shovel fall from my own hands.  We began to lie down…