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3/11

How many times have you met the Reaper? Your every breath will one day cometh To you become the eternal sleeper.
But not today. Not tomorrow, Not any time soon. Don’t even come back. I’m alive and I like that. I am not a buffoon, No sorrow. Here to stay.
I’ve changed my life, I’ve dug deeper. Eye to eye with the face of Death, My eyes, a proud demeanor.

Camille's Way Home - Chapter 1: Awakened

Her breath was rapid and short. Each stride that was taken was one that came from a need for safety. Beads of sweat dripped down her face, occasionally merging with the constant tears pooling from her eyes. Camille was not sure why she was running, nor was she aware that she was doing so in that moment. It was when her vision came back that she realized her movement. In a strange twist, it felt as if she had just woken from traumatizing night terror, but her body had reacted long before the nightmare was over.
Run. I need to keep running. The thought lingered. The commanding whisper grew louder with each pressing step, as if she weren’t fast enough. Despite the burn of the lactic acid in her legs, Camille forced her feet to push harder against the ground. I’m not far enough away yet. Each inhale allowed her another set of steps until a sharp pain darted through her ribs; her body demanded pause. The sprint turned to a jog, which turned into a walk, before reaching the base of a cliff …

The Last Clock: Premonition

My eyes felt like they were crusted shut. I didn’t want to wake up, I didn’t want to get up, but one look at the clock sprung me out of bed as I shouted, “Oh, shit,” realizing that I overslept, and I only have thirty minutes to get to class. I poured a bowl of cereal, opened the fridge to grab some milk, but the carton was empty. “Assholes,” I grunted, figuring that one of my flat-mates was responsible. What irritated me most about it was that if I even confronted them about it, both would deny it. Buncha spineless maggots; no one here even tries owning up to their mistakes. I was about to dump the cereal in the trash when I noticed that it was a heaping mess that couldn’t even fit even a single flake without falling on the floor. I really don’t have time for this right now and I’m getting more pissed by every new problem. I decided to leave the bowl on the table, and grab some bread instead, but of course, even that had to go wrong. As I opened the loaf, all that was left fell on the…

The Girl and the Red Dress

Alone, she waited for her father to arrive His poem is what always made her feel alive. Moments of cherish centered around the time When he returned, to read her favorite rhyme.
The winds grew louder, howling through the trees To which, her cower moved her under sheets. The storm crescendo’d turning rather violent But still, she sat, leaving her just silent.
Not a moment too soon, a knocking at her door The fear, once had, won’t bother anymore. “Sweet Emilia,” he spoke, “I fear I took too long.” “Of course not, father. I just waited for your song.”
Like an anniversary or a form of jubilee Her eyes lit while smiling full of glee. It was their custom for him to address Her favorite story of The Girl and The Red Dress.
The winds went silent, and the trees grew still Like they too awaited their fill He took a seat, next to her bed Caressed her hair, and that’s when he said,
“Long ago, was a bright young girl, With a heart so pure, as beautiful as a pearl. For all she touched radiated with benevolence, While the…