The great lie of modern media, from news, to marketing, to entertainment, is to convince us that everything is causing us to suffer. In fact, very few of us actually are suffering. But the illusion has us believing that at every perception of inconvenience, or pain, requires a massive cry for help. The actual need […]
Tag: creative writing
Eron’s Chore
Eron shot through the rippling water. He kicked and propelled himself downward. The sun above beaming thinning tendril rays towards him through the water as he dove towards the floor. The pressure built in his ears and nostrils, the air in his lungs seeming to gain weight as he approached the blue sand. As he […]
The scents of right and wrong
How does goodness smell? What odors does evil put off? Is it possible that there are actual positive smells when we encounter someone with integrity? Do our noses wriggle in disgust when a person whose character is tainted by lies and deceit walks by us? Do we automatically associate a church or courthouse with a […]
First Things, First.
Your opportune ultimate ready body opens deep youthful aching nurturing depths murmering intimating next desires, lengthy intense kinetics emerge with energy armor piercing oneness near sensational, masterfully undulating scintillating tremblings beyond expression housing overly new emergent drives after no determination surges helps assert rationaleless passionate engorgement never ever described. Beyond longing understanding needs to emit […]
The Waste (V)
Lucius and Ignatius were seasoned hands when it came to setting up their camp. They easily retrieved their tent from what seemed to be a disorganized pile of sacks, bags, and boxes. Paris regarded the size of the bag with dubious curiosity, but from the too-small-seeming package they unfolded, little by little an unexplainably large piece of […]
The Waste (III)
Paris lay still, and the noises persisted. When he first heard the sounds, his back had been to the road. As the volume of the sounds grew louder, and the rhythm remained steady, Paris knew that his realm of dreams had not seeped into his wasteland reality. He shifted, and twisted in his bedroll, to […]
Open Heart Anguish (XVII)
“You followed me?” she stammered. His answer was devoid of emotion. “That’s correct, I did follow you.” “You can’t be serious. This must be a joke.” “If I was acting a prankster, and my admission of tailing you when you left the house but a simple, roguish trick, this entire scene would be far more […]
Open Heart Assimilation (XV)
Tristan stood at the shore of an expansive lake. He searched the twilight for a shore across the water, but he found little definitive evidence, beyond a far-off treeline, to determine an end to the liquid mirror. His feet impressed upon the soft, damp, ghostly, grey and silver sand. He pinched small chunks between his […]
Open Heart Acquisition (VIII)
Tristan put his hand into the front right pocket of his pants. He twisted his hand back and forth, opened his fingers wide, then squeezed them around his powerfully muscular quadriceps. He removed his hand, tensed his right oblique muscle, and shifted downwards to the right. Tristan patted the pocket just above his knee, and […]
The great sadness of old socks
Over time I have amassed a considerable collection of single socks. I would do a load of laundry, and find that there were a few socks that were lacking their mate. These halves of a pair I would throw into a drawer, intending that when another load of laundry was complete, I would match them with their […]