she was beautiful
the crystal had appeared without warning seemingly suspended in midair; not by strings nor a contraption but rather by its pure existence
in an instant fascination tethered gaggles of onlookers to its core calling forth a voiceless dare should you touch me? should you break me open?
but soon public consensus answered the question; they erected a velvet rope and towering sign to encircle the crystal to serve as a simple yet sacrosanct warning do not touch you may only look you may only stare you may only think and wonder and ponder
the crystal’s exterior…
it’s better to just be straightforward
to be just a little bit blunt
i could place the words i want to say
in a neat little package
top it off with a glittery bow
and wrapped in shimmery paper
dotted with prismatic shapes
forming a kaleidoscope of colors
all around its squared edges
a temporary state of beauty
but beautiful nonetheless
and i could give it to you
to your expectant hands
and you could unfurl the bow
discard the superficial
and try to sneak a peek
of what is inside
what could it be
that is beyond such…
“I can’t be friends with you. You’re a pig.”
That seemingly innocuous sentence left the lips of a girl I considered one of my best friends in second grade.
In a wing of seven-year-olds clamoring and congregating before class started, it was typically deafening and difficult to concentrate.
And yet, I heard her. She had a megaphone blasting, broadcasting my misery to the world. She just didn’t realize, nor did she care.
I stood, completely frozen; my words struggling to claw through a prickly throat and never surfacing. …
Hey. Look at me. It’s okay, right? Just look at me. It’s alright. I’m here. I got you. Don’t worry.
My bed is my sanctuary: my respite for retreat, the permanent and reliable stasis of every night to recharge and mull over the day’s happenings. Swaddled by the warmth of blankets and the wispy touch of satin-tinged sheets, there is nothing like a good night’s sleep full of pleasantries and sweet dreams. It is a sacred thing, one vastly underappreciated.
How I long for that experience to return.
For quite some time now, my subconscious enjoys playing a pernicious game…
On another plane
I become the dream pilot
I draw my own map
I haven’t written many haikus, and they seemed deceptively easy to write — but they are anything but! Being concise is quite hard, especially when we writers love to lean on the verbose and purple prose side of things. But, it is an exercise in saying as little as you can while still painting a grander image, in addition to adhering to the syllable rules. …
those were clouds
you plucked from the sky
and folded neatly
in the pocket of your coat.
you handed them to me —
carefully, as to not distort their shape
— but no words left your lips.
but on contact
a surge of electricity
nipped at my fingertips
a sharp buzzing
stung my ears
so distilled and pure
how could i not accept
such a radiant gesture?
when you turned your back
i looked to my palm
the dew twinkled on my skin
i am unworthy —
that was my first thought.
I’m a big fan of Charlie Brooker’s dark sci-fi anthology Black Mirror (I even wrote an in-depth review of the fourth season). The show has been around since 2011, eventually finding its home on Netflix, and captivating audiences with tales of technology and humanity gone awry, and asking the question “What if?” Another talking point of the show — and a possible reason why it became so popular — is that most of the technology showcased isn’t too far in the future, especially at the rate we’re advancing. …
I consider myself a writer. But I haven’t actually written anything of note for months.
Well, to be exact, I’ve written some one-off stanzas for poems that have come to my mind at 3 AM in my Notes App; I’ve started and stopped many ideas for stories that I’ve had. And most importantly, I’ve stared a blank page awaiting something to flow from my fingertips to the screen in front of me. Yet, every time, nothing happens. Just a blinking line looking expectantly at me. What do you want me to do about it? I’ll tell myself. …
I hate to admit it. But I’ll say it to you, now. I committed a crime.
Before you question me, “What? What in the world
did you do? What could it be?” I’ll please ask that you search
and find it in your heart
to not judge me. See, all I did was spill some paint
and it changed the color of the night.
Once I saw the night
had changed, there wasn’t much I could do. I did the crime,
and the paint
was all over my stupid stubby fingers. Even in the cracks of them. Now, the world
is out to get…
Today seems to be a normal day on the internet. Memes, politics, television discussion, and… animal abuse?
On August 6, YouTuber Brooke Houts, 20, uploaded a video with her dog, a Doberman named Sphinx. Houts has a respectable 300,000 followers on YouTube, and in a recent string of videos, she’s included her pup in various ways: in her morning routine, in a Q&A on what it’s like to be a “young dog mom,” and among others in the same vein. But this one was different. Titled “plastic wrap prank with my Doberman!”, Houts seemed to have left in a supposedly…