A Short Story or My Love Becomes A Shroud

He’s thinner than she remembers. His shirt hanging awkwardly on his shoulders, his gait sluggish. Pants barely held on by the leather belt.

He’s walking slowly across the lawn, arms deep in pockets.

She wants him to look up, to see her standing there waiting for him. But his eyes are glued to the ground. A word from her lips would do the trick, she knows, but for some reason she hesitates. Unspoken words die before they’re given life.

So instead she waits.

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Writing Blues.

“He’s thinner than she remembers. His shirt hanging awkwardly on his shoulders, his gait sluggish. She waits for him to look up and see her, waits for the way his face would light up, waits for way he’ll draw her into his arms. He doesn’t.

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Strings : From Where I stood, You Were All I Could See



The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and she was regretting wearing a jacket out, the inside of the car was getting warm. She leaned back into the car seat, silently willing her sweat glands to not act up. She would take it off, but it would be too loud in the pervasive silence that neither of them seemed to want to break. She glances at him quickly, and he too is leaning against his seat, easy smile on his face. But she knew he was a bit tense, his fingers gently drumming against the steering wheel.

She wondered how much longer it could go on, the only sound being the light taps against the roof, and the occasional student walking across the parking lot.

“Liz…”, his voice seems unnaturally loud in her head, and though she knows he wasn’t shouting, she flinches. He doesn’t notice. “Liz… You wanted to talk”Read More »

Strings : We All Wear The Same Face In Different Ways

The laughter was loud, bursting from her throat unbidden. wild and feral. bouncing off the walls of the small, bright room; looking for an escape and finding it through the window by the closed terrace doors.

the neighbors would later comment that it couldn’t have been her. She was usually so quiet and never went off like that.

The dark brown eyes that stared back at her, grew cold at the sound, and she quickly clasped her hand to her mouth, but the damage was done. His cheeks twitched a bit and she saw how he was trying to hold in his anger. was she mocking him?  His thoughts clear as day on his face.

the laughter seemed to linger in the room, somehow. like it was a sentient being, sensing the atmosphere in the room; and with its malicious heart, sought to worsen it.Read More »

Strings : the day it began and everything else ended

The place is called Old Man’s cliff, small thing at the edge of the town; and as she stands there now, she kind of understands it. The grass beneath her feet faded and brown, shirking growth and life even with the season’s urges. The lone tree stands heavy, near dead branches sagging, moving slightly in the evening breeze.

    it’s the silence..it’s so quiet here. She leans against the trunk now, and rubs at her arms absently. I should have brought a jacket, but it shouldn’t be taking this long…  She remembers the last time she had come up here. With Dije.

It was in the early days, when she wasn’t the punch line of his joke on their nights out with friends, her drink clasped tight in her hands, false smile on her face. When the neighbors in the building didn’t give her pitying looks, because of “all the shouting and screaming dear, and are you alright?”.   Read More »