Morning Flight

22310274_10210508451654338_8099977218505346740_n Lynn turns off the alarm clock and turns to stare out the window. The sky has a blanket of clouds keeping the sun at bay. Her hair fans out behind her, spread across the duvet. The dreams linger in the corner of her mind and she rubs her eyes in an attempt to erase them. She runs the tip of her fingers across her lips, remembering the brush of his against hers. Groaning, she rolls over, pulling a pillow over her head.

“Alright,” Lynn huffs, climbing out of bed. She pulls at the blinds and rests her forehead against the glass. A group of birds take flight from the telephone wires they were perched on.  Continue reading

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Lattes and Murders

21557532_10210178347961952_1736647627170701057_nThe abrupt scream of the steaming wand makes me jump and spin towards the door. Staring at the empty coffee shop in front of me, I curl my hands into fists, annoyed at my own anxiety.

“Sorry man,” the barista says.

I turn, offering him a half hearted smile. “Don’t worry about it. Just a bit jumpy, I guess.”

The barista, a tall man with tattoos covering both arms, shrugs. “Makes sense. What, with all these murders. Did you hear about the last one?”

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Dark Colors

21462786_10210178347641944_6627037810111179313_nMost vividly, I remember the rain. My hair had been stuck to my forehead and I was shivering from the cold. Running through the trees had winded me and I was struggling to see through the fog and rain. The house was large, hiding in plain sight.

I was scared, lost, and alone. I was also only six years old.

Now, twenty years later, the memories have become distant at best and fictional at worst. Once, I made the mistake of confiding in my girlfriend at the time, telling her all I remember about that night twenty years ago. I told her how the memory of the night feels physical to me, but the evidence of it was never found.  Continue reading

Neighbors

19731899_10209655775657971_5749092506553919200_nHanna smiles, standing with one arm tucked under the other. She sips from her large coffee mug, smacking her lips at the slight bitter taste. The sun climbs up in the sky, beaming down on their small town. The people on the street outside all stay bundled in large jackets, bracing themselves against the cold wind.

A young mom pulls her front door shut behind her, herding two small children to the car. Hanna raises her hand, waiving at the woman through the window. She’s greeted by a wide smile and an enthusiastic wave.

Hanna watches the car drive away, her throat suddenly feeling tight. The house looks relaxed, as if it were yawning after it’s crazy family leaves for the day. Hanna looks down the street to see an older boy riding his bike to school, fighting the morning wind. Hanna sighs and takes another long sip from her coffee mug.

A cat rubs against Hanna’s leg and she bends down to pet the animal’s soft fur. “Good morning, Georgie,” she greets. “Did you sleep last night?”

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A Game

15590037_10211707848635793_58361140296266066_n“Let’s play a game.”

“That sounds eerie.”

“No, it’ll be a fun game.”

“Alright, how does it go?”

“I spend every moment of my day loving who you are, and all you have to do is let me.”

“That’s not a game.”

“You just have to be yourself. Then you win the game.” Continue reading

Lights

fcb7651cef295f22606766ced9ab6784It was almost 10:30. I’d been driving for hours, 13 hours go be exact, when the sky started to sparkle. One after another sparks of color shot into the sky and exploded in a puff of glittering light. I was enamored.

I watched the fireworks, eyes drifting from the road. They were so… random. It was the beginning of march, no date the world was celebrating. No reason to use such an extravagant form of celebration.

I watched them in the distance sparkle, shout, and explode. I had to reach them soon, right? I was driving towards them. They had to come from somewhere.

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Ari’s Best Friends

14882125_10207637211315124_7188519246657598919_oHer eyes glaze over, her chest shakes with laughter, she falls onto her back and her fingers rake against the glaring white ground.

It was 2008.

No… 2007.

2006?

It was a while ago when Ari first met her best friends.

She was five.

So it would have been 2006, right? Continue reading

The Key

14856129_10207637245115969_4982728063728620631_oThe first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from.   Continue reading

Flower Me Angry

15941107_10208257309377188_4801604402307860374_nI really love succulents.

I was never a big “flower person”. I’m still not. I love nature and I love flowers and greenery and gardens but I don’t know a lot about them. I don’t know the different flowers or what type thrives and which climate. For the longest time I didn’t even have an answer to the question “what’s your favorite flower?” Because the only flowers I could think of were roses and daisies and those weren’t my favorites.

But I’ve finally found my answer to that question and that’s succulents.

I always thought that your favorite flower was a good way to know the kind of person you are. Continue reading

Graffiti

heart“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” was the mantra he heard day and night. The words were whispered against his ear, shouted from the roof, scratched into his skin by the people who were supposed to love him.

“Weak,” the insult is spat his way after he once again let tears slip out of his deep, hot eyes.

“Control yourself,” he whispered, pulling the blanket over his chest and turning on to his side.

His phone started singing promptly at three am that night. He slapped the ‘off’ button and pushed the blanket to the floor, exposing his sweating legs to the cool, sharp air. He tugs on his dirty pair of jeans and a large sweatshirt before fishing the worn bag out from under his bed. Continue reading