Art & Fiction
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Art & Fiction
I grew up here, in the library with books instead of parents and stories instead of friends. I have spent the past twenty years of my life in the Draethym and yet I still have not mapped out the entire library, and that isn’t due to lack of effort. Although I have gotten close, I still don’t know if the end might even be near. I don’t even know if there is an end.
Everyone doubts Kevin’s dreams of making it to the NBA. But when he gets sucked into a virtual championship game, will he change their minds with one last shot?
A shining stage, masked actors, and a perfect role. But as the curtain rises, Gaston realizes that some encores never end…and some stages are impossible to leave.
In the darkness, alone in the emptiness, the sorrow echoes through the nothingness.
The girl in the light blue sweater shuffles her feet and twists her fingers around in a way that makes me look up at her face and notice the slight downward tilt of her smile and droop in her eyes. She doesn’t want to be here and the sweater is too tight for her liking. I can tell because she pulls at the sleeves in a nervous way that I sometimes do to my skin.
Eyes. There’s nobody here, and yet I feel the eyes of the world, rubbing against me like thick honey I can’t wash off. Such an odd sensation, feeling as though me and my tied up ginger hair and bandaged arms, me and my miss-matched socks and flower dress, me and my confusion are out on display.
And so, like every other night, I will go out onto my balcony at dusk and play pretend. I will smile, because people don’t like when the sun is angry, and I will let this kingdom be deceived by a facade for a little longer. I will be their illusion, the royal family’s lie. And I will do it again. Over and over again.
A sixteen-year-old me had run into the garden just as wild as her surroundings, with messy tears running down her cheeks and found the best thing in her life.
The blood is everywhere, reeking of death. It trails to that door one drop, one drag at time.
All parts to developing a memorable lead.
All of us soldiers are the same, unique traits and personalities rendered irrelevant in the face of war. Every step, every turn, was freakishly accurate. Because that’s what we were trained to do.
I had woken up from another daymare. But it had been my worst one yet.
No weakness, no hesitation, and no guilt. A “perfect” society created only by strict rules with no opposition or loopholes standing in its way.
From the ashes of the past, one man has a vision to get rid of violence and crime, creating AI with the power to control the minds of the people. It’s so perfect that no one knows they're always being watched.
We were not chosen to protect the world, we were broken to protect him.
Don’t trust your family, they may be dead already…
Will the two friends survive the mysterious place together?
Two worlds, one fate: can trust heal a city on the brink of extinction?
A sunrise greeted me, one too beautiful to be wasted on this day. Every corner, every inch, sobbing was present, not the ones found in a tower with a pretty princess, but the type that violently clawed and thrashed, voices cracking in agony.
The purple hyacinths of regret, forgiveness, and sorrow.
The sun breaks free, its rays casting light upon us, as if in a fairytale. The luminance glistens off the meadow as the wistful sky lures me in. I see a red string above us, a red string of hope.
When a devil experiences heartbreaking sorrow.
The water engulfed me whole. Its arms wrapped around my limbs. They yanked and tore at my desperate attempt to live until I stopped thrashing. Until I gave up.
RADIO SHOW: Jennifer, Michelle. Michelle, Jennifer. How long can her double life last?
RADIO SHOW: The final descent of Dawoud’s million dollar business fraud.
They clung onto her body and wouldn’t let go. They tore her down except she had already given up struggling.
My vision starts to black out, and then I am holding out to something, anything, for just a little support. I find nothing of the sort. Instead, I am falling. No. No.