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Literature
Prologue - I
“The greatest of risks to be undertaken by something no smaller than a pin.” Solomon muses, squinting at the red pin, the needle pinched between his fingers. Circular, small, almost missed by the untrained eye. Then again, it is a bright candy-apple red.
One would have to be blind to miss it.
“Why did we not make earrings? Those are near the face and all.” The Darkrai looks over to his assistant, hoping for an answer of some sort. None is offered up to him.
He takes another look at those gathered by the square table in the kitchenette. A common apartment, with two bedrooms and a large common area beside the place wh
Literature
november14th.
i never had an actual birthday where i could sit back and reflect on what the world has given me thus far. i've never had the teenager-themed "surprise parties" and the traditional gift-giving, pinata-hitting, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey slash spinthebottle games that dash away reality for the given special day. sunsets and silhouette dreams that smash reality into confetti and funfetti-half ass made birthday cake with the number of ages presented into falling-apart icing. i never understood why society would celebrate a passing year when ultimately the person is getting closer to growing into obligations of responsibilities.
but for mothers
Literature
Inferno.
When I felt pain.
The Ink was free.
When I was on fire.
The ink was free.
When I was empty.
The ink was free.
I feel empty.
I feel pain.
But my fire has left me.
I reside in my own inferno.
Searching for my fire.
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