“We don’t want to exit too soon—we want to take in the sights, hear the birds, and watch the leaves fall or the buds blossom. We try to control our thoughts from too many sentiments about broken dreams, holding on as we walk this one-way street.”
Each person’s life stolen by terrorism is a pointless death.
We know who the perpetrators are.
They stole lives, torn apart worlds and still today there are those who shelter and give legitimacy to your evil.
He traded a law degree for the Monterey tide, building a legacy on his own terms. But retiring means facing the ghost of the father he left behind.
Read “El Capitan” — a story about family, loss, and the sea. #ShortStory #Fiction #WritingCommunity #Mets
Time is filled with stuff. Hopefully the good stuff outweighs the bad.
The good stuff is to be treasured. It’s the friendships that are born one month, then borne towards the end.
The media is biased to the point of irritation and driven to increase the ratings have elevated the amount of hatred and anger to new levels. Everyone from late night talk show hosts, who claim to be the “good guys,” to the pontificating radio talk show hosts who claim that everyone is wrong because they… Read more: Water is Boiling – We have all Failed
Time Pieces (working title) My name is Freddy Zalta. I am 51, well, almost 51 years old. I am writing this as a testimony should anything happen to me or the world as we should have known it. Or as we should not have known it. Officially I work as a watch salesman – selling… Read more: Time Pieces (working title) Chapter 1
Yellow brick roads are meant to be followed. I’ve wandered away from them too many times while searching for the land of Oz.
I’ve been the scarecrow, but I’ve never been the Tin man or the lion.
On a sweltering subway ride, a man experiences a fleeting connection with a well-dressed woman. As they navigate the crowded car, memories of youthful attraction resurface, ignited by an undeniable magnetism between them. Ultimately, they share an unspoken agreement and exit together, hinting at an unexpected adventure.
Watch the blonde lady, summer dress, no shoes and walking on the boardwalk. She stops and holds onto the railing staring into the ocean horizon.
“Looking back is never good, it leaves a salty bitter taste and can do no one no good.”
Morning comes lukewarm, everything muted and familiar. We move through these halls on habit alone, counting days that blur together. This piece sits in that pause—right before the door opens—when the ghosts of expectation loosen and something unnamed begins to stir.
“We don’t want to exit too soon—we want to take in the sights, hear the birds, and watch the leaves fall or the buds blossom. We try to control our thoughts from too many sentiments about broken dreams, holding on as we walk this one-way street.”
Each person’s life stolen by terrorism is a pointless death. We know who the perpetrators are. They stole lives, torn apart worlds and still today there are those who shelter and give legitimacy to your evil.
He traded a law degree for the Monterey tide, building a legacy on his own terms. But retiring means facing the ghost of the father he left behind. Read “El Capitan” — a story about family, loss, and the sea. #ShortStory #Fiction #WritingCommunity #Mets
Time is filled with stuff. Hopefully the good stuff outweighs the bad. The good stuff is to be treasured. It’s the friendships that are born one month, then borne towards the end.
ghosts abound
there was a house…
Yellow brick roads are meant to be followed. I’ve wandered away from them too many times while searching for the land of Oz. I’ve been the scarecrow, but I’ve never been the Tin man or the lion.
“A cup of coffee, lost photographs, and the ghosts we smile at when we reach the crossroads.”
On a sweltering subway ride, a man experiences a fleeting connection with a well-dressed woman. As they navigate the crowded car, memories of youthful attraction resurface, ignited by an undeniable magnetism between them. Ultimately, they share an unspoken agreement and exit together, hinting at an unexpected adventure.
Watch the blonde lady, summer dress, no shoes and walking on the boardwalk. She stops and holds onto the railing staring into the ocean horizon. “Looking back is never good, it leaves a salty bitter taste and can do no one no good.”
The scene is set. A broken prophecy, an open door, and a lady with a secret. The storm is coming, but she is ready.
Morning comes lukewarm, everything muted and familiar. We move through these halls on habit alone, counting days that blur together. This piece sits in that pause—right before the door opens—when the ghosts of expectation loosen and something unnamed begins to stir.
