Category Archives: short stories

Reflections


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.

Wandering Heart


​”Share with me the tale of the traveling man again, Grandad.” The young boy pleaded with open eyes, widened in wait, with interest.

“Again?” The old man chuckled as he lifted the blanket over the boy. Stopping before the boy’s head was underneath, he sat beside him. The old man looked into the fire and back at the boy. The fire lit in the small chimney just across from them, just a few feet away. The cabin barely 10 to 12 feet wide in a perfect square. A leather couch in the center, turned, facing the chimney and the small kitchen beside the chimney to the right. The bed just against the wall beside a window and the wooden door that led to the outside, at the edge of the bed frame. “After this you have to promise me you will go to sleep, ok? 

“Yes, I promise!” the young boy’s eyes twinkled from the crackling fires light in the cabin. The small setting was warm, filled with memories hung on walls and resting upon various places. The fire creating an orange tone that basked the cabin. Shadows fluttering with the swaying flames creating a dance that was mesmerizing. 

“Now listen carefully as this story is told, for many say it is a parable of one who wandered but was not lost.” the old man leaned a bit closer to the boy, making sure he was fully covered. 

After hugging his own body he continued, “there once was a man who knew not the way he would go. Though he knew of a home before, he needed directions to reach the place of the unknown. Leaving his village in search. No one knew how to get there but many he passed were from there. The man would contemplate, ‘How can this be?, he would tell himself, yet he would continue in this voyage. The man encountered a wolf one day, before reaching for his knife, the wolf bowed politely. The wolf led him to a stream where he gathered fresh water and something to eat. As he finished eating, he asked the wolf if he could lead him out of the forest he was in. The wolf just asked for one thing in return, to love. After the wolf led him a great distance, they parted. The man was then exhausted one day and met a bird. The bird boasted about seeing the heaven’s and the place she had seen. The man was envious of the bird’s wings and eyes. The bird told him she would let him see what she saw but only if he gave her his eyes. He didn’t understand of course but complied. Awakening the next day blind and cursing the bird. The man continued on for many days and nights, stumbling along the way, though he had a walking stick to help him along his path. Without his knowing, he had entered a cave along his way. The cave was home to a dragon. The dragon asked the man where he was going. The man replied that he was in search of the unknown where home was more than a word. The dragon scratched his chin, though the man couldnt see the Dragon. The dragon looked at the man’s walking stick and bag, saying, ‘I will take you to this place, in return, give me all your riches and what you have.’. The man was starting to have hope, after all this time, he thought. He said of course and reached out, holding his bag. The dragon huffed and puffed, filling the cave with smoke, ‘I do not want your mere items, for haven’t you heard, dragon’s only desire true treasure’ tapping the man’s chest. The man felt his beating chest, grabbed his shirt and shouted, ‘I cannot and will never ‘. The dragon was shocked at first, ‘My what a golden heart you have indeed.’. The dragon laughed and started to rise in the cave. The man felt the trembling ground beneath him. The dragon launched himself out the cave with the man and they soared through the sky. In what appeared to be a few hours the man began to see before him. His eyes adjusted to his surroundings once more, to his surprise, he was at the village. He was on the ground, beside the dragon. He had forgotten to hold tightly to his bag and stick. The dragon looked down at him. The man felt his heart in his chest, relieved. He waved as the dragon flew away moments later. He looked around the village, the children running and playing, his neighbors smiling and talking to one another, the air filled with scents of flour. He felt the wind brush against his skin, turning to face the sun basking his skin he smiled, saying ‘I’ve made it’.”

The old man looked at the boy who was now asleep. He slowly got up and moved to the couch. Sitting beside the fire he yawned and closed his eyes, whispering, “Such was his tale, he who followed his heart…” and fell to sleep.

Internally Bleeding

Light breaks, Beyond sound’s crashing waves. 

Turning with form, tides burned. 

Shells laying burried beneath currents. 

Howling winds brushing hollow spaces. 

Breath escaping, touching once calm reflections. 

Ripples distorting images once in focus. 

Gaze is drawn away by shots striking thunderous applause in distances. 

Thoughts drafted in service to defend reasons of being in existence. 

Dials moving in direction to precede in guidance to nights. 

Marches made with just rights to press on to fight. 

Marked by piercing, betrayed cries are heard near. 

Wounds and scars bandaged over tears. 

Walls grasped in despair by monsters of familiar faces. 

Though now is seen at ends, beating pressure, the war of hearts.

Tales of Loves

Swaying doors bringing the genesis of a smile never forgotten. Embraced by welcoming arms not sought yet returned. Voices shared to create a song beyond time. Ever passing days of laughter and knowledge of one another, through messages delivered by hearts. An exodus towards a union never imagined in space or time. Snapping moments to draw collections of time once paired. Never forgotten…how can it be…such embrace…now just a memory. Stars speaking as if it was Destiny but now just a legend. What once was, is not. Such is the tale of lovers consumed by the sun and left alone now…in the dark.