Short Stories

Black and White.

Black. Black. Black. Black. Black. Six bodies of black hanging against the wall. Dirty eye sores in a world of clean skin. Blackness–creeping up on me like a robber under the night sky. I can’t see myself in the whiteboards, because I see all of the black smudges that people have tried to erase. That… Continue reading Black and White.

Advertisements
My Opinions, Short Stories

Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift

  Frog crouched down behind the couch in the dark apartment, the sunlight that shimmied into the apartment through the small cracks in the blinds illuminated the round, chocolate cake in his hands that’s finished off with cricket and mealworm confetti. His cool, green toes anxiously dug into the cherry-wood floor and fat beads of… Continue reading Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift

Short Stories

Different Drugs.

He rolled over away from her, the thick and damp lint-invaded plaid fleece clinging to his naked, red, sweaty rolls. He liked to light a cigarette after their sessions to push the musty and personal smell of body parts out of the room. After the first anxious drag of the hot mesmerizing tobacco, his stomach… Continue reading Different Drugs.

Short Stories

The Stranger with the Tupperware

I was eating alone, at a table with a view at the entrance. A stranger walked in, headed straight to my table, and said hi. No name, likes and dislikes, life purpose, mood, or anything else came after that word. Instead, he slammed his big-bellied backpack down on the woozy, wooden table making the glasses… Continue reading The Stranger with the Tupperware

My Poetry, Short Stories

Death and Decaying.

First, she lost the waves of strawberry blonde that ended at her waist. Then she lost her mouthwatering skin, a bright and throbbing red like a bed of ripe and ready strawberries in a strawberry field. She used to have a tasty, round figure that everyone would drool over, but now she’s dry, with off-black… Continue reading Death and Decaying.

Short Stories

Nine Lives.

Today I am Samantha, and it is my twenty-first birthday. Well, according to this ID and credit card that’s my life. I go down to Denny’s for a free breakfast. The waiter asks to see my ID because he swears up and down that he saw me in here last week. Last week I was… Continue reading Nine Lives.

Short Stories

For Grandma.

My grandma dropped out of school in the second grade. Things were different back then. But one day, when women finally began to gain rights and when my grandmother finally began to gain the courage to unlock the chains that pulled her down from liberation my grandmother decided to take the GED test. I had… Continue reading For Grandma.

Short Stories

Heavy Metal.

My day started with a gun. I didn’t know where it came from, what it was doing on top of my backpack, or why I needed it. But, there was a message etched into its cold, black, side in peeling white-out, maybe from all the sweaty and anxious palms that have caressed it, that said… Continue reading Heavy Metal.

Short Stories

Live Inside the Prison with Mad Max.

My name is Maxwell Smith, age 40, white male. But call me Max. Whatever you do, do not call me Mad Max or Mental Max like the rest of the world. When you write about me and cite me, call me Max. Just Max. The Warden took this hour for the interview out of my… Continue reading Live Inside the Prison with Mad Max.

Short Stories

Gorilla War

I was only able to grab one thing from my apartment before it’s swallowed up by a starving hole in the ground. Of course as soon as my boyfriend and I are on the brink of everything we talked about during college, the world is crashing and burning. I had dreams we would get married,… Continue reading Gorilla War