“It’s my job to guard them and I’ve failed,” says the angel.

“It’s my job to comfort them and I failed,” says the stuffed bunny.

“It’s my job to keep vigil and I’ve failed,” says the creature under the bed.

They all failed and though they knew each other served a different role and their jobs though interconnecting through their child, they’d never personally interacted. Until now.

The bunny w...

Where there is light, there is always a shadow close behind.

Where there is joy, there is a sadness in the far reaches of the eye.

A tear threatening to break free of its chains.

Behind the smile, there are always teeth that grind and grind until they bleed.

Under your hand there lays a sweaty palm, its clammy and wet and impossible to calm.

Happiness is a mask and your joy a disguise for we ...

“In some ways, it was nice being the one leaving, instead of being the one left.” He smiled solemnly at the ground.

“Okay, and how did you die again?” The angel asked with a grunt.

“It’s just, everyone has always left me you know? My friends, my family, my wife left me, we divorced three years ago…”

“I can see why,” the angel yawned.

“But to die peacefully in my sleep, to leave the world behin...

He wrestled the wind as he grabbed his sheet. It billowed in the breeze, threatening to escape his hands. He flings it over the line and grips it till his knuckles are pale.

He reaches for a peg, but the wind is whipping at his hair, attacking his eyes and his mouth. A strand glued to his lips.

Tears threatened to escape his eyes as he brings the first peg up to the line, clipping it into place....

I trusted him, why wouldn’t I? He was my husband … I suppose he still is. Legally anyway. But he promised he had nothing to do with it, nothing to do with the disappearance of Claire Edmunds, but when I found the texts between the two of them, the night before she disappeared … I … I didn’t want to believe it.

I didn’t say anything to him about my discovery, I played the oblivious card, but every...

Why is it when I make something myself I’m never satisfied, but everyone loves it? As if I’ve lied to myself.

I hear their praises and they’re appreciated, but I’m just not convinced with the accuracy of their words.

Honestly I feel like the things I make myself come out like turds.

But I enjoy the process and I like the smiles on the faces of those I create for.

They say a good artist never ...

My friends mean well. I asked all four of my closest friends for advice on this guy I like and each one said to not even bother because he’s not worth it. I deserve better and he’s too much trouble, but I disagree. They don’t see what I see.

I’ve seen his softer side, I’ve seen the way he stares out the window and looks at the butterflies.

He swears like a sailor, but the way he articulates is s...

Look at him with his long flowing hair and his pouty lips, lies come from those lips like a knife through butter. Those soft plump lips that carry poison in them and those eyes, those eyes that belong in Davy Jones’ locker, the swampy green where souls go to drown. So beautiful and yet so dangerous. His strong arms and and hands that take hearts in their hands and crush them to dust. That take som...

They asked me how I knew the deceased.

“So how do you know the deceased?”

And I said “well, here’s the thing…”

And what I told them had us both in stitches. Because the thing is I didn’t just know the deceased, I am the deceased!

Let me explain… you know how in films people fake their funerals just to see who would show up? Yeah? Well no this is nothing like that because this was actually my f...

In a world full of roses, be a thorn in the side of the authority.

Challenge them so we can achieve prosperity.

Don’t let the rich get away with their crimes, tell them like us they must serve their times.

It’s not a radical concept to expect the same from our leaders.

We are the ones who work till our fingers bleed and we’re on our knees pleading for freedom.

We work all day with no time fo...