Skip to main content

Sunrise, Sunset

I had a dream last night where I was looking at either a sunset or a sunrise.  It was like a screensaver in my head.  A voice was talking to me while I looked at the sky.  It was telling me that I could choose to die now and have a painless death.  I would just go into the sunset/sunrise.  I said that I didn't want to go yet because I didn't like the way I had been living lately and didn't want to face God that way.  I think it's funny that I didn't say I didn't want to die because there are things I want to do and people who I don't want to leave.  Both those things are true, yet I didn't say that. 

Popular posts from this blog

Short Story: Distraction

It was an office, not unlike any of the other offices around the city. There were windows, visible to the lucky few cubes on the ends of the rows. Then there was Vera's cube, situated next to the row of manager's offices. Today she was lucky, someone had left their door open and precious slant of sunlight escaped, warming her back and washing out half of her computer screen. "I never realized your hair was red," Tracy dumped a large stack of paper on her desk, "The florescent lights make everything look so soupy." "What is that?" she pointed at the stack of paper. Tracy only offered compliments when he wanted a favor. "I need this entered," he smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "You have a secretary," Vera waved a freckled hand to her left, "Ask him." "He's sick," Tracy gave her puppy-dog eyes, batting his long dark eyelashes. Vera sighed and fought back a smile. Tracy was such a s...

Poetry and Stuff

Grief:Peripheral The flicker of bluish light filters out what is missing; there is only one set of boots by the door, an apple sits on the counter uneaten, and even if you don’t make a sound, the notch in your heart is nothing personal. ____________________________ Yeah, I know I said no poetry, but I lied. From The Culling, because what girl doesn't dream of  owning a library with a ladder?  I just posted the last chapter of The Bond, which I'm not 100% satisfied with.  It is the end of this novella, but the story continues in the next book of the series.  One of my biggest problems is I don't have a title for the next novella.  The working title was "The Break," which doesn't really work.  If you have an idea or two, throw 'em in the comments.  

We Go West

I am on this path to find something lost to me, something I never owned. The long dusty roads, the people, the noise, sleeping sitting up, or in unfamiliar rooms the moonlight pressing down on us. We go sunward to stop the clock from unwinding, to shelter the world from the sky. My long bones cramping, hair blowing, the hum of the engine, the throb of blood in my temple, I want something I cannot break. This was not my itinerary, I didn’t write the guest list nor draw the maps. A cup of tea, The smell of fresh newsprint, The silence sitting around me Like faithful attendants, the moon, light as a flower petal drifting in the sky. But we are still traveling, no more than a one-night stay anywhere and trust no one there are always shadows behind us and every beautiful face has cruel eyes, especially the mirror. I am too weary to protect anyone. Time has begun to turn back on itself, sometimes I look down at m...