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Chapter Two My first home was not the glorious experience I had hoped it would be. The old lady’s house smelled like darkness, laxatives, and stale cigarettes. It was the first time I recalled having the urge to smoke. Considering my painted-on expression, it was essentially destiny that I would smoke at some point. This home made it especially easy with its peeling wallpaper, easy access to cigarettes, easier access to matches, and the oppressive despair. The first week of o

Camilla, that is what she called herself. That is what we called her. The prettiest of the sisters. The one with the longest tresses, perfect round cheeks, and blue eyes that seemed to flutter in gratitude and praise for their owner. It is only right that she became the favorite. It took me some time to realize that she was off, and by the time that I did, either it was too late, or I was so beyond caring that I let it play out. Tell me, am I the sinner?   Chapter 1 I remembe

It has been a struggle in the last year to remember why I write. I kept on thinking, "I want to write, I want to write, I want to write." And I would, and the writing was fine, but not really me, and it felt like work. Should creativity feel like work? It certainly does take a certain amount of dedication, time, and energy, but so do hobbies and sports, and we do that for fun. Finally, I remembered a wise quote from a wonderful man with charming smile lines and chronic low ba

Long ago and a ways into the future in this world or another, we, as humans, figured it all out. Not we, it was a few "well-meaning...

More Obsessing on Obsession by Thea Dawn A Want, more a need. A glimpse of smell, my memories whisper. Shivering, stubbornly cry....

It is a day, similar to most days in almost all respects. I assume that the sun came up today. I assume that it is also set. Perhaps the...