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BondedThe wind howled outside of the shop whipping around leaves and other small debris smashing it into the window panes. Dante dozed in and out of consciousness leaning back in his chair and his feet propped up on his desk with his hands secured behind his head. It was in this state that he found his mind more open and once again he was searching out. He wouldn't describe it as being telepathic since there had only ever been once person that he could connect too but it was definitely a trait most people didn't have, which didn't say much he supposed because there were a lot of things he could do that other people couldn't. It was on one of these trips as he searched that he found his thoughts wandering and straying away from him. When he was younger it had been somewhat disturbing to feel his mind seemingly float away leaving him in frenzy to gather his thoughts back together and come back to reality but as he grew older he had trained himself fairly well. He understood that some things co
HellThe acrid smell that hung in the air was almost enough to make the man vomit, almost not quite. He had been in battles with both demons and humans thus being privy to all kinds of 'interesting' scents but this one took the cake, so to say. It was down right putrid. Not only did it permeate and assault his nostrils burning a path down his bronchial tubes to offend his lungs that always seemed to be in a state of injured or nearly healed, never quite one hundred percent though mind you, but it seemed to permeate into his skin sinking itself deeper to reach the very marrow that lay in his bones sullying his already tainted soul.
Shackled wrists hung above his head had long since cut off any feeling in his hands but with that was a certain blessing because at the same time they didn't hurt anymore. He had no idea how long he had been chained nor did he care, it was his punishment justly deserved he supposed. It hadn't ceased to escape him the irony of his situation; he who had wanted nothi
One Small VoiceRecently I came upon old memories. Some which were hidden away for a very long time due to the severity of their content. I won't bore anyone with explicit details but it had everything to do with my childhood and how adults had treated me.
My most vivid memories are of my mother screaming at me or calling me a bitch because I asked her a question. When my father wasn't working, something he did I am more than certain to get away from my mother, he would run around the house calling my sister and I selfish bitches because we were never taught how to do housework.
There were fights. A lot of fighting between my parents so severe that neighbors called the police and once I am certain my father called them on my mother. My grandparents, aunts and uncles offered little to no help and simply turned a blind eye believing the fake smiles of my parents even though all knew the severity of their fighting as wel
LifeWhat happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
It only seems fitting that I would think of this ten years after initially reading it. My eleventh grade English teacher had put it up on the board one day as a reference piece for a play we were about to read. The play wasn't bad. In fact I remember it fairly well. A poor black family all clumped together in a small apartment recently had their patriarch pass away. The family received a large lump sum of cash I'm guessing was his pension or life insurance, something along those lines.
The eldest son spent all of their money knowing that his mother had plans for it to get her family out of poverty. His own wife was pregnant with their third child
Wedding DayThe music started. Her hands began to shake. This was something she didn't think was possible since they had already been shaking already. Tightly she gripped the bound stems of her bouquet in an effort to settle her nerves. She could see everyone stand from their sitting positions turning in her direction even though she wasn't visible in the doorway yet.
It still seemed a mystery to her how exactly she was supposed to walk down the aisle without puncturing a hole through her ball gown dress. She really hadn't wanted to wear the high heels but her step-mother had insisted. The woman had never steered her wrong before and relented when it was finally brought to home exactly how tall he was and how short she was.
To her it had never made a difference; just one of the many that had seemed to bind them together over the years. The veil that covered her face was made of a light lace but to
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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