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Writing Byte #14: Staggered Thought

There’s something… there.
Behind the pressure and the noise and the muffled input,
behind the headache and the too bright lights and all this.. 
There’s… something
It’s coming… so…. slow.
Where is it?
The lights they flash.
People moving… too fast… speaking… silence.
Machines and straps… let me out!
Help. Please.
I just want…
Can’t… think…
Maybe it’s… right over there.
In the quiet black, inviting.
I think I’ll just… rest now.
In black.

I breathe in… and remember…
This is the same hospital… the same room where she…
The accident, the screaming people, the machines that suddenly stopped beeping.
It isn’t like that for me.
I’m an old man… everyone’s gone now. She was the first, though.
I miss… everything about her.
It’s funny… I don’t remember yesterday…
But I remember her.
I breathe out.
I still remember.
I breathe in.
The machine beeps… and beeps…
It’s so annoying, really…
End of my life and that’s all that’s left: that dang beeping…
Oh how nice. It stopped.
Did I breathe out? Can’t remember…
I remember her though… it hurts…
Rest now.. maybe over there.
In the black… maybe she’s there.
In between thoughts… in the pause… in the black…
She’s there.

I’ll just… rest now.


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I'm Back!

Hello any followers/viewers I might still have left! And welcome to any new visitors!

I'm leaving the posts from child-me in case viewers are curious to know what I was like 9 years ago!

I'm revamping this blog into a blog for my readers.

News about my published works, and reviews will be posted here. Additionally, I will post small, lunch-break-sized writings for those of you who might not (at present) have time to read a novel!

Welcome! And hope to enjoy diving into this experience with you!

Writing Byte #17: The Arena

I always hated boxing. How could someone enjoy the violent, mutual mutilation of two unique individuals? The drench of sweat, the clenching of fists, the iron smell of blood… I much preferred tennis, where the players remain a good distance from each other, holding rackets for a last defense. I never liked boxing; I never understood it. In many ways I’m always the careful one, the wary one, the conscious one… I’m aware of the frailness of our human bodies… minds… souls… how just one tap in the right place can send someone reeling, falling, lost…
But sometimes… Sometimes the stakes are raised, sometimes winning that fight becomes just too important to ignore.  Maybe a friend is in danger… or an opportunity comes just within reach… or that challenge just needs to be taken down. My jaw sets, and the screaming warnings of risk and danger fade out of consciousness. They become merely that indistinct rumbling in the background. My breathing steadies, my body tenses, and my eyes focus on th…

Writing Byte: #8: Living in a Whirling World

(The point is to be a little confused at the beginning... don't worry!)
I’m a bunny in a breeze. I’m a frog in a frenzy.
I’m a mole in a mountain. I’m a lion on a lawn.
I’m as slippery as soap, and as stubborn as a sailor. I’m as listless as a lump, and as harried as a hamster.
I’m a human in a pickle, looking for identity, lost in metaphor and riddle, searching for analogy.
I find I’m both and neither…  everything and nothing…
Until finally I decide:
I’m not a character,  portrayal or example, I’m me: impossibly complex, 
and truly unexplainable.