jennaskook

I’m lying down in one of those sunshiny spots. This is the only place and time they start to appear, where the sun manages to peek through the blinds my mom insist on keeping down all the time. The light warms my skin, makes it feel alive, and the prickling feeling that has been gathering on my arms vanishes. Of course, I know it will appear again soon. A soft knock on my door. My mom comes in. “It’s that day again. Time to go.” This is a routine for us. Each week, we buy chrysanthemums, drive to the cemetery, and set them down on my dad’s grave. My mom will have tears sliding down her face that she would nev

“Sometimes I can’t write anything but endings,” she says. I look at her. Bony, deathly pale. Dull eyes of eroded emerald. “What do you mean?” I ask her. She digs around in her purse. I know she’s searching for a cigarette. “I mean, when I try to think of a story to write, I can only think of ideas for the ending.” “Aren’t endings hard, to write, though?” “Not if you don’t have a beginning to connect it to.” She pulls out a pack, triumphant. Then her smile fades. “I suppose you haven’t got a light?” “You’ll catch your death f

The sea crashed onto the shore and left a swirling, frothy foam in its wake. I sat in that foam now, clothes wet and feet buried in the damp sand. I stood, shivering slightly, as I watched the moon. No stars were shining tonight, but it was tranquil and deserted. This beach is isolated- I am one of only four people who know about this place. And I am the only one of those four who is still alive. My mother and father had moved here when they got married. They were quiet, peaceful people- the kind of people whom no one ever seemed to notice. They were the same in so many ways-they spoke softly, and they had always taken the time to notice th

A lone female Pokémon Trainer lies silently on the side of a road. It is raining, the cruel wind and ice chills her to the bone, and she is broken. She takes out a single pokéball and stands up. And she crushes that pokéball with a stomp of her foot. -- She never wished that things had turned out the way they did. In fact, just the opposite. Her mother and friends have forgone consoling her. Even they know that she is too far gone. What they do not know is that, little by little, her tears will make a river. But they will learn of that eventually. More specifically, they will learn of that when that river floods i

My name is Elliot and I am addicted to lying. It started out with a slip of the tongue. My mother asked me once if I had finished my homework. I said "yes". And it only went downhill from there. -- My parents were honest, hardworking people. We lived in a small town that was located right in the middle of a country called Nowhere. It doesn't matter what the country was actually called- if I told you, you probably would have said that you had never heard about it before. Anyhoo, one day on Earth, in a country called Nowhere, in a small town, in an even smaller house, a mother and her son were arguing. The son had lied to her about not p

I open my eyes. Thick darkness cradles me softly. A look outside my window tells me that the moon has shied away from the night. Stale air begins to grip my neck and squeeze. I get up, tossing my covers off my body. Moving silently through the house, I open the front door and step outside. As usual, my neighborhood is illuminated by street lamps. What strikes me, though, is how solid and black the sky is. If not for those lamps, then I would be shrouded in complete darkness. I sit down on my front steps. Only then do I notice the balloon. It is deflated and filthy, with its string barely still attached. At closer inspection, I see that t

I am dead. No, not that "Oh no save us it's a ghost" kind of dead. I'm dead to the world, to my friends, and to myself. But not to everyone, though. And the funny thing is…I don't really mind. There was nothing left for me in life anyway. But I often find myself wondering, that if things didn't happen the way they did, maybe everything would have been different. Maybe I could have reached out and brushed my hands against the stars. Maybe I could have still been able to hear the songs and stories of the night sky. And maybe my spirit would still be alive. -- "Daddy! Higher!" "But the swing won't go higher, honey." "But I want to touc

I remember the velvety red of your voice, Wrapping around my numb hands As your touch pervaded orange heat throughout My eyes yielded calm darkness As you tried to teach me That there was something else beyond the emptiness Your words jolting yellow confusion within my mind Your hand in mine, you disappeared before I could taste the green wisdom From your tongue, Melting smoothly into my blood, your tears With a hollow blue sorrow only I could taste, Your warmth lost within the cold grasp of the world And now your eroded purple footsteps have faded away Before I could tell you What colors truly were

you held on as you and i felt the black oil rise from Their lips, we were holding hands smiling using the smiles we practiced together painted on fake but enough to fool Them who gush the burnt words from Their mouths mocking jeering us you wear your crooked one to salvage your damaged face, and only with me do you ever wash it away and only with you do my star-lit feelings begin to rise tasting of honey, but not sweet and I will hold on with you, with you wear a bandage of rope around our bruised necks, holding hands smiling you and i long hair whipping forth frigid air freezing our mouths into expressions we had