Journeys

Of all the things I’d never see, fireflies were pretty damn high on that list. My limbs were  weak, bruised, and felt sore from the fall. “Damn it” I mumbled, wincing with pain as the nurse inserted the needle into my forearm. “It hurts, I know” the nurse said in a stern voice, likely having no sympathy from doing this a thousand times before. For her, this was an average day, but the end of mine. “Does everyone go to heaven?” curiosity piqued me. I had never, once, believed in some omnipresent omniscient deity that watched over Earth. She looked at me, and with all the ancient knowledge the nurse had, she responded, “I do not know” in the rather monotone voice she became accustomed to using. “Gee, thanks” I mumbled; any sliver of life after death soon faded. The nurse smirked. She fumbled with the intravenous sedation once again. “It wasn’t the brightest idea to jump out of a building, with the delusion that I could fly” I joked, trying to enlighten the mood a bit. ...

Take away from this poem what you will. I don't need to explain what I wrote. So long as there’s a story to be told, and as long as there’s a song still left to be sung, our voices shall not be silenced. Though media is subject to mockery and the words our leader says are “pure truth,” there are still those out there strong enough to oppose his voice. Our strength shall not be outnumbered. Fear and terror may reign the streets the fear of becoming a victim lurks deep within the darkness and overcrowds our mind. But, so long as there are still good cops out there and politicians who are willing to advocate for equality and justice, our wills and civil rights shall be condoned. The aftermath of November in 2016 condemned everything. Our president falsifies allegations, but gratifies the aggressors. We aggravate with political turmoil as our rights strip one by one. Rumors drift around of Russian interference. But, so long as the truth conti...

For this project, the teacher asked us to portray or describe a certain emotion. What came out of the project was surprising. Here is my work. Lust is a lady with a faux smitten smile Green eyes, and blonde curls that bounce on her shoulders as she walks. She wears a skimpy red dress, red sequins glimmering in the light of the discotheque. Lust’s body, primed for those with insatiable desire, fully breasted and ready for action. Her voice? Soft, deep, and smooth caramel.

The cold stone walls of the tavern seemed menacing yet warm and inviting. Patrons sat either at the rounded oak tables that occupied five or six people each, or at the light mahogany bar that faced the entrance of the tavern. Bottles and glasses of expensive wines, liquor, tequila, vodka, and other alcohol shone like diamonds in the desert at high noon. A bartender stood in a tuxedo, with light brown hair and clear crystal blue eyes, about 6 feet tall, and seemingly normal aside from his peculiar pointed ears. The bar’s floor had been recently waxed, Mr. Salmon (the bartender) took great pride in keeping hs shop nice, neat, organized, and orderly. The walls, on either side of the tavern, were packed, cobblestone. . Orbs of a mysterious, soft amber light, floated aimlessly between the tables. His bar catered to all; Humans, anthropomorphic animals, ghosts, ghouls, and things that go “BUMP” in the night. Most mortals would never suspect that the person sitting next to them were otherwor...