the miscellaneous musings of a twenty-something human.
Sometimes, it’s life and death.
There’s this moment, where you know, without a doubt, that it’s the end.
You’re helpless.
But until your last breath, all you can do is fight. Fight for your pride because you refuse to be one of those assholes who give up and leave the battle.
You. Can. Do. This. Continue reading “Short Story 31”
Have you ever found yourself staring at the clouds in the sky? Or maybe you’ve looked up after catching something in the corner of your eye, but suddenly you can’t remember what or why when your eyes eventually scan the heavens. There has never been a cloudless day; when the sky is clear in one city, it’s cloudy in another. Think about it for a second, really think about it – you know something isn’t right, but as soon as the thoughts enter your mind, you start convincing yourself that the idea is ridiculous. Despite what you are led to believe, there is a reason you have that feeling deep inside that something isn’t quite right about the weather. So, I’m here to put your mind to rest…or maybe just open a giant can of worms. There is a secret in the sky, but most people forget as soon as they have seen it. The thing is, being completely unaware is exactly how it must be for humans to survive (depending on who you talk to). Continue reading “Short Story 30”
Grace was six years old when her attraction to the river finally overwhelmed her. Her mother, Jane, had only turned her back on Grace for a few seconds, but in those moments, her little girl with the auburn locks and in her favourite red dress silently skipped to the water’s edge.
Jane felt a change in the air, and as a gust of wind rushed by. She turned expecting to see her daughter playing in the field of flowers that surrounded their modest cabin. Instead, she only saw that the water had awoken from its slumber, with no sign of Grace. Continue reading “Short Story 21”
He had a burning pit of hate inside him. The type of heat and fire that consumes a person until there is nothing left in their soul, the type of intense anger that rivals that of hell itself, and the type of inferno that made him commit unspeakable acts. At least that’s what people tell me. I don’t believe what people say about him, they’re just rumours. Continue reading “Short Story 9”
naomi eleanor 