My Opinions

Paradise Lost, Eyes Never Regained.

England was a dystopia in the 1600’s. There was plague slithering around devouring people, malnutrition encircled people’s bellies, unemployment drained families, and famine strangled the people… England was suffering, so losing faith in a higher being was something that spread throughout the towns. People assign a higher being with the responsibility of maintaining their well-being… Continue reading Paradise Lost, Eyes Never Regained.

My Poetry

How to Commit a Crime.

Stand still. Walk. Breathe. Hold your breath. Smile. Frown. Laugh. Cry. Blink. Wink. Talk. Be quiet. Have black skin...

Short Stories

Confessions of a Catholic.

You don't think about the future until you are forced to live in it. You speed through four years of college, and then your future is standing there at the finish line pinching you to let you know it's real and it's ready for you. My name is Anaya. It is African, and it means… Continue reading Confessions of a Catholic.

Memory Lane, Short Stories

How the Bat Got its Wings (My First Story)

This story was written by me when I was in the second grade. I recently re-discovered it on my shelf in my room back here in Arizona. This is the start of my writing journey, the year it became my passion, and twelve years later and it is still what I enjoy the most. Here… Continue reading How the Bat Got its Wings (My First Story)

My Poetry

Metamorphosis…

The gardener buckles up his overalls and pushes his hat down over his curly mess of hair, then heads out into his green and brown landscape. After months without rain, the little drops finally graced his land with its angelic beauty and nutrition. He walks past his vegetables and his fruits, and heads over to… Continue reading Metamorphosis…

My Poetry

Bedtime Story

Toss and turn, from left to right. Keep your eyes shut with all your might.   Blanket up, or blanket down. Keep your eyes shut without a frown.   Lights on, or lights off. And remember, keep your eyes shut you little goff.   …   You’re still not dreaming, so you repeat. And repeat.… Continue reading Bedtime Story

My Poetry

Survival of the Fittest

I survived my first kiss with oxygen after my nine-month lease ended with my landlord. I survived the religious dictatorship of the hospital I was born in. I survived the ocean of tears that flooded my shirt when I was left alone to endure the deplorable and defective public schools of my hometown for my… Continue reading Survival of the Fittest