Blink, and you’ll miss it.

Friends, marriage, family, fun,

Joy, but others too.

Plus failure and misery,

But blink and you’ll miss it.



Her eyes were emeralds. No. That’s not it. Her eyes were grass – the earth – and in it was the entire world so that I could see myself and her and everyone and everything. No. That’s still not what I mean. She was the world.

My world. My universe. My everything.

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Ocean Girl

The ocean breeze made her hair dance, and the sun was only a spotlight for her beautiful graceful but careful movements as she climbed the stack of rocks. Her soft lips mouthed a song that only her melodic voice could sing for if anyone else but her sang it, the song would be changed completely.

She went on barefoot, exploring the world with small steps but with eyes as wide as the sky. She collected seashells and held them like glass when she washed it several times in the seawater. She planted her feet into the wet sand, enjoying its cool touch against the heat of the morning sun.

And every afternoon like every other afternoon for years, she placed the seashells in the shape of a heart, wrote his name, and watched as the ocean took her heart and him like every other afternoon with one single tear.


It was as if she was under a trance,

Holding the knife just above him,

Eyeing the target even if the lights were dim

With such aim and a perfect chance

To end everything in this one stance.


But something held her back

As she held the knife over his heart.

She was starting to come apart.

His life was the object of the attack.

Her motivation was payback.


What held her back was the love

They once shared though it disappeared.

This delay in murder was what she feared,

But once she remembered what he was devoid of,

She made sure he was disposed of.


Hey-o. It’s been a while since I’ve posted something on WordPress, but to be honest, my mind has been geared towards storywriting lately when I went back to my Wattpad account and saw one of my (many) unfinished stories and came across one that just needs to be finished.

The thing is, I’ve been so geared towards writing to please a specific audience that I forgot how it is to write for fun or to write and experiment different styles, different points of view, different characters. And yes, I know I can pretty wordy at times, but that helps when I try to describe setting. So, I guess when I was writing that story I somehow dropped two years ago, I decided to go for short phrases and paragraphs to cut out all my wordiness. And the result is–amazing (to me, of course–I don’t know about other people, but rereading what I wrote with a fresh mind was exciting).

So the following is a description of the story (I am so sorry for the shameless promotion):

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“Can you just answer one question?” Amy asks as she applies makeup, squinting at herself in the well-lit mirror in her bedroom.

I lie back on her bed and close my eyes, already figuring the reason why she’s asking such a question.

“You’re asking because the boys are out, right?” I ask back. “Let me guess, you want to ask why Nathan feels the need to be so disrespectful to our oldest brother.”

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“I don’t know,” Chloe says. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sweetie, who are you talking to?” Chloe’s mother asks, placing her hand on the receiver of the phone so the other person on the line can’t hear her panic.

Chloe looks up to her mother with stunning azure eyes that her mother can’t seem to find out. No one on her side of the family has eyes like that, and her husband denies any blue eyes in his family too.

“Dean,” Chloe replies.

Chloe’s mom furrows her eyebrows into a quizzical but worried look before quickly relaxing her face, unwilling to make Chloe question her panicked expression.

“Dean?” she asks, trying to smile.

“Uh-huh,” Chloe says, her eyes not once removing themselves from her mother’s plain brown eyes.

“What are you… What are you talking about?” Chloe’s mother asks, hoping Chloe does not catch her hesitation.

“Dean said you’re calling a doctor, and he’s wondering if we did something bad. But I don’t think we did anything bad. Right, Mommy?”

“A-a-and where is Dean right now?” her mother asks.

Chloe looks to her left and wraps her arm around Dean’s shoulders. She looks back to her mother’s face writhing in horror.

“Is your mommy sick?” Dean asks, pointing at Chloe’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Chloe replies before turning to her mother. “Mommy, are you si – ”

Chloe’s mother slides to the ground and leans against the kitchen counter to support her back as she curls into a ball, trying to shield herself from the children.

“Doctor, Doctor, please help me!” Chloe’s mother begs. “I still see the children even with the medicine – ”

She clutches her stomach in pain, trying to forget.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, Mrs. Grace,” the doctor says.

Mrs. Grace looks at the two children around her, fearful that they might come closer and take her life.

“You just have to breathe and accept the fact that – ”

“My daughter, my daughter, oh, my sweet baby,” Mrs. Grace interrupts with tears in her eyes.

“Mrs. Grace? Mrs. Grace! How much medicine – ”

“Oh, my dear, Chloe, I knew you were still here – ”

“Mrs. Grace!”

“And Dean is here too…”

“Mrs. Grace, those children are just in your head! They’re all just-just imaginary!”