Category Archives: short stories

The Return

The gasps were echoed among the crowded space, as my presence was known. Amidst the pleasant company surrounding me, none was welcoming. To have been known and as the passing light fades revealing my identity, I am forgotten and remembered to pasts thought to have been forgiven. But is the revelation overwhelming to such a degree that the sweltering rays of my gaze, reflects and melts away the thoughts frozen in time? How is it possible for mere mortals to hold such distaste in eternal promises? Silence growing louder as my beating drum knew no sound or feeling, for heart was left in hand but dropped to shatter in pieces without a right mind.

Whispers emerged after what appeared to be a timeless voyage seeking refuge but setting sail to the storm on the horizon. Shadow cast from setting sun to glowing light, trying to peer through veils. Unbeknownst the audience, my passing was recounted as a tale but never an epic beyond fables landing passing eyes, only ears. Now the stories interwoven by my appearance, wraps in perfect unison, depicting the nature of my existence. I am no ghost.

Masquerade in celebration now halted by an unmasked man. Facades drawn to a blank, revealing the clarity of vision. Meaning is not lost but rooted with passing encounters, defining actions as nothing more. Empty words holding no fruit as space is given with each foot drifting across and so I carry on.

Beady eyes finding worth by bringing down looks. Holding themselves in high esteem while imperfections ring out and deafens the building of words piling up the monumental moment, bestowed by my arrival. My return apparent and yet never embraced or foreseen, though quick action is given by none at all. Find me leave the quarrels of minds and feelings to depart on my return as an endless paradox.

In the Garden

Bristling wind, flowing through her hair, brushing against her skin. The melodic arrangement of nature captivated her.

It was as if time stood still, as the swaying leaves and trees around her, spread out, and enveloped the waters. What was this feeling? The serenity brought about by the shades and tones of green.

Though she held to memories, reminiscing times of long ago, she felt at peace, was this feeling close to being home?

Winter’s Wonderland

          “So I was telling Robert that we will be settled in by the end of week.” Frank’s stern voice echoed within the moving truck. His gaze was focused on the road ahead but tried to keep a conversation going, as to not fall asleep. His son kept him company and sat right beside him. He wasn’t too fond of the move. But Frank managed to get promoted and was asked to oversee construction of the new building for the hotel. 

           The icy wind clawed at the windows looking for a way to pierce the awaiting bodies inside the truck. Warmed by the air within the vehicle, heading down the mountain pass. Timothy stared out at the blanket of snow outside. He just let his dad ramble on about all the “blessings” that was going follow. 

       “Come on, kiddo, I hear the school there is great” Frank gave a short nudge at his son, making sure one of his hands never let released the steering wheel.

       “Yea, right, like this weather huh?” Timothy’s response was sarcastic of course. He hated the cold and was used to the warm, hot weather of Florida. He only saw snow on tv or movies. He never thought he would move so far north that he would be enveloped by it til God knows when. 

       Frank curled his lips in hesitation before he continued. He managed to catch his son’s tone and knew for a fact this wasn’t the best weather. He remembered looking up the town on the internet with his boss’s words constantly repeating in his head, “It is freaking cold there”. He kept his gaze on the road now, he decided to keep quiet for a bit as he neared the crossroad. 

        The sign on the side of the road read Arcadia, the winter wonderland. It had a picture of what appeared to be a smiling family playing in the snow with Christmas decorations on the house behind them. Timothy rolled his eyes as he couldn’t make out the rest of the billboard. His father kept going straight as they passed the intersection. It had been quite a trip but they were almost close to what everyone else called their new “home”. He could start seeing the dim lights pierce through the storm. You would think that a sane person wouldn’t drive under these conditions and yet his father insisted that this was the weather most of the time year round. 

The road seemed to merge into a narrow strip as what appeared to be the last hill leading down to the town began to have them descend. Insanity, Timothy thought to himself as he looked for signs of worry on his father’s face. The man Just continued to rant about how important his work and his new position would not only benefit them but everyone. 

Frank didn’t want to give his son any sign of discomfort or worry as he noticed the terrain was literally like a death trap. The road had to have warning signs or something, he thought. He would brush of any fear as he continued to discuss how the company who hired him spoke about the new job opportunities he was bringing in to this town. 

The wind continued to pound the moving vehicle. Like a monster trying to devour its prey it clawed at the windows. The snow attaching itself and building up on the front window trying to blind it’s victim. The moving truck still continued its steady descent and as the storm raged on, the town slowly revealed its appeal and wonder. 

Timothy was the first to notice it all. The wind seemed to stop after awhile. Snow started to brush off the windshield and he could fully make out what was before them. The town stretched out in between mountains but apart from all of the snow, it appeared to be something of fairytales. What lay before them seemed like one of those towns you see in a snow globe. Trees spawned around and decorated due to the upcoming season. The houses surrounding the various other buildings seemed nice and warm due to the lights that escaped and helped bring the town to life. 

Frank gave a quick look at the side mirrors to check if he wasn’t imagining just leaving a blizzard. He blinked 4 times at what he now understood from his wife’s description as a magical place. 

Though the town was small as one could see it from the hill from beginning to end, it seemed welcoming. Movement could be seen amongst the town and as dark as it was getting outside, the lights sprawled across gave new life or signs of it. 

Frank pointed to the far right of the town where what appeared to be a set of steel beams were erected. “There’s the building”, he then pointed to the otherside of the town near the back, “and that’s where we will be staying.”.

Timothy couldn’t make it out from where they were. As they reached the bottom of the hill he couldn’t see the whole town anymore. It seems he would have to wait. 

They drove through the town and everything truly seemed to be from a movie. Of course, people would look at the passing truck in awe as both of them in truck only assumed was natural. For being a small town and the location, it was unlike any visitors or new comers to just come about. This is what Frank and his companions hoped to fix, though it was still a mystery as to why this place. 

After what appeared to be never ending minutes of torture, Timothy felt a wave of relief as he neared what appeared to be his new house. He could see his mother complaining to the movers outside.

“Oh boy”, Frank’s worried expression surfaced as the words rolled off his tongue. He knew his wife all too well. “This isn’t good.”.

Timothy chuckled, “Yea, for them that is”. As he said that he looked at his new house. Surrounded by wooden fence and two pine trees on the front yard. It had a driveway to the left and was a two story house. The colors appeared to be a tint of red with brown but was mostly covered in snow. The lights were on what appeared to be the two rooms on the second and he could now make out his sister looking down. 

Mary looked back momentarily as she heard the approaching truck and waved at them. She then turned back and faced the two men in front of her on the front porch. “Good, now you will have to hear from my husband!”, They could now make out the words she was saying. 

Frank took a deep breath as he put the truck in the driveway. He looked at Timothy, “Well buddy, we’re here.”.

The words scratched in his head and echoed like a nightmare. His dad was removing the keys and signaling that he was going to check what was the big fuss. Timothy started to get ready to get off the truck, he also took a deep breath and looked around. He looked up towards his sister’s room and noticed her eating a strange fruit. She was smiling and waved at him and then disappeared as he thought she was going to greet them. 

He looked towards the mountains and noticed a strange green light that appeared to flash. The light seemed to call to him and he felt himself enter a trance. There was something familiar about the light, as if he saw it in a dream. 

“Timothy!!”, His mother’s voice awoke him from his trance and he got out of the truth. His feet sank an inch to the ground as he landed. Snow, it was the first time he actually was around it apart from the drive here, he already hated it. 

His mother rushed to him and have him a huge hug. “Welcome home, honey.”, the warmth of his mother was truly welcoming. He hugged her back but the words still felt like a stranger. He looked back at the mountain where the light shun only to find there was no light flashing this time. He whispered to himself, “Yea, home…”.


I could feel the gentle breeze pierce my skin. It felt as if the wind was trying to counsel my soul. I stood looking out over the waters. The sounds of the night engulfing the thoughts that plague my mind. How can such a night be of such disarray when all the world seemed to be at peace at this very moment.

The lake reflected the night sky and amidst the passing ripples I could see the reflection even upon the dark waters. I could hardly remember how many nights I spent here. How the days seemed to merge into one because of the gentle caress of nature brushing against my soul. It was indeed peaceful. 

Even with everything seeming serene I do manage to grab the gaze of those golden-brown eyes, hazel, shimmering back the moon’s light. I would spend time outlining the features of my face, who was that man staring back at me? How much has he changed? It would dawn on me that I never really took the time to appreciate it admire who I was it am. We effortlessly critique and point out our imperfections but there were these moments I just am amazed. 

I moved my hands out and watched the reflection in the water. I could feel as if who I was seeing was a different person. I could feel the urge to want to grab a rock and throw it at the image. I felt mocked in a way. My senses came to me and I would find myself smiling. Seeing my smile actually made my smile grow bigger. 

The whole action was more than what an average bystander would actually consider as narcissistic or concieted. It was more so actually acknowledging who I am. Finding that I too can love myself and reflect not only what I’ve done but who I am. I think we all forget to do that from time to time and yet, it is worth it in the end of the end. That is why I do it sometimes, just go to the park, walk upon that wooden bridge and just stop at the edge, look down at the water and see beyond the reflection.

Awaiting Darkness

The frigid, steel floor trembled below the group. They could all feel it beneath their bare feet. Huddling closer together as they were unsure of what was happening outside. Darkness swallowed them. The engine roaring and humming throughout the voyage. Brakes screeching. The sounds of the truck echoed through the haul. They could only assume by the sounds that they were being transported in a truck. Crammed into the back as they were boarded up, as if they were cattle just hours before.

Blindfolded and chained together. Each individual cowering together amidst the group that filled the trailer. Their breaths felt alongside the strands of hair of one another. Each one wearing the grey cottoned one piece prison garment. Trying to find warmth disregarding strangers but finding closure amongst each other.

“W-where do you think they are taking us?” A voice spoke in a whisper, shocking everyone as it was amplified in the small space.

“I think I heard one the guards mentioning something about the Hole.” A raspy voice responded.

Shuffling sounds of people huddling closer, their breathing quickening. Everyone else appeared to know what was the hole. 

“Oh God, they are getting rid of us, like vermin.” A shriek ran out of someone. It piercing through everyone, causing everyone to shiver.

“What’s the hole?” It appeared to be the same voice that responded to the first individual.

Having some form of communication was desirable between the group. Though now, the atmosphere seemed to shift to pure fear. Breathing increasing dramatically and the pounding hearts seemed to bounce off the walls due to the echo and silence. 

“The hole is the final stop for people like us” A voice yammered. Someone else spoke up, it sounded like an older gentleman as he continued. “My son Frederick was sentenced to the Hole in the beginning of the invasion” he stopped mid sentence, “that’s the last I ever heard of him.”.

“I heard the Hole has no end…that you keep falling in an endless cycle.”, this time a frail voice spoke, a woman. 

“I heard that once inside, you will feel your soul ripped out.” A younger voice howled back. 

Gasps were heard throughout the group followed by the iron curtain that engulfed them occasionally.

Silence swept through for what appeared to be another hour. No one wanted to mention a word.  Attempts were made by those closest to the steel walls of the trailer to find a way out. A couple of people started singing songs while others prayed to their God’s.

Hope swayed and the groups demeanour grew weary. Many people would sit on the icy floor, in surrender of their coming fate. Heads against shoulders or between knees wallowing in fear.

Acceptance to their impending defeat was drawn before them and many answered its call.

A jolt shook everyone and many lost their balance as the truck was coming to a stop. Voices were heard outside. The whimpering cries and whispers filled the trailer once more. Movement beneath them started once more in the opposite direction, meaning they were going in reverse. The vibrations would reveal a sense of direction. 

A large hiss rang out and the engine’s stopped. Everyone grew quiet expecting to hear something else besides their throbbing hearts. 

Bangs were heard as it sounded like the doors were opening. The raw, merciless wind snapped at the group sending frigid bodies to press together. 

Chains were pulled and the group was forced to jump down onto another wintry floor. It felt familiar compared to the steel floor. Blindfolds were taken off and as the group tried to adjust to the lighting of their surroundings, it came. The chains that connected them were pulled apart in what appeared to be in instant. The crackling of the metal shot into an object they couldnt make out. As squinting eyes pierced through looking for focus. Yet, they all opened them in shock as they all felt the pull. They all saw it as they lost their equilibrium. The ground beneath them opened up, sending many to fall sideways, forwards, backwards as they lost their footing. Many looked up to see the moon shining above. It’s radiating light filling the night sky and the stars around it basking the heaven’s with such beauty. Others started to scream as they looked below, an endless abyss stretched below them. A hint of light or even glimpse of an end was but a dream to some. 

After minutes of falling many gave in to the darkness. Everything became subdued by utter nothingness. Thoughts became just passing senses lost and forgotten as air was now the source of focus to grasp. The light from the moon was no more. No trace of an opening. No sounds from those around or the beating of one’s own heart. 

And so the story of the Hole remains, as another truck is loaded. As those who fall in the eternal abyss they consider damnation with no passing thought but only of those who tell its story. Awaiting….darkness….

Why Write?

What are you really after? I ponder this question before every story or poem I write. It would seem to hold a significant weight on my chest. Even within the realm of Instagram where I post poems and quotes. 

Let’s not sugar coat things, we all seek to be recognized is some way but the question remains, what are you after? Long hours “perfecting” a story or poem all so you can get some likes? A follow maybe? Is fame your goal? Or do you want to truly share your message, vision, and/or truth to the world? 

A common thought crosses my mind every time I type, as an answer to those questions. I would like to be known but I don’t want to do it for selfish reasons. I prefer my stories to truly touch people and encourage them. You can really summarize my blog ultimately as an outlook on life and how I perceive the world but it really is a motivational one. I like helping people, helping them understand and find that they are not alone. 

Don’t get me wrong in anything, I find a sense of pride when someone comments, likes or follows me because of something they read. But I also know that if I base my writing on likes or fame, it will distort my message or story. I find that I will gain an audience some way but writing isnt just to help people as well, but also a form of medication for myself. I write for me as well. 

We can all joke and reminisce about having our books or stories published. Write about our struggles as writers on a daily basis and even fall into the stereotype of being a writer, but ultimately what are you chasing? What is that pull that keeps you writing? People may not even notice you because you’re not “famous” and as soon as you take off, you’ll see swarms of “fans”. Begin to write differently or in such a way that it offends the reader and you will get dropped. This is just how society has transformed over the years.

I’ve learned all of this since I first started writing about a year ago. I don’t become discouraged at what is happening or if I don’t “make” it. I still put in the hours and write, learning from my mistakes and perfecting the craft. To be able to give an emotion or imagery using words is a gift and is something truly beautiful. Never forget the reason you started and always remember, you arent racing, there really is no finish line. Write as if your work was meant for eternity and your story will be made history.

I See A New Horizon

I guess you could say I’m the captain of being broken. Hooked within the oceans, call my ship Morgan. Bottled collection stealing the sense of being over. Intoxicated by these thoughts that have me sailing sober. Waves of emotions having me sail every single morning. Mourning past voyages, soul searching. Guided by the stars knowing my purpose is more. Ignoring what’s told of me, letting my memory become a lore. Soaring the waters even in the state I’m in. Unburied treasure of my mind within this skin. But I was no pirate, stretched by my fruits. Relaxing with straw hats, looking for my crew, I had no clue. The lost boy didn’t pan out so I guess I’m Peter then. Absorbing the sounds as i tinker the mental clocks ticks. Stopping time as I’m up hearing the bells at six. Let me make it back to the horizon. No longer worried about surprises because I see a greater vision.