Quick question, have you ever eaten a book? No? Awesome, great, me neither. Our main character in this chilling novel, on the other hand? Well, let’s just jump on into this review, shall we?Continue reading “Book Review: Horrid by Katrina Leno”
A short story I’ve worked on to bring awareness to rape survivors and the importance in listening to them. This creative piece shows the double-standard in society and the effects that our actions can have on others. Warning: This content portrays rape, self-harm, and domestic abuse and may be triggering to some people.Continue reading “What Could Layla Do?”
Chris had been fascinated with the Garden of Arms since they were a small child.Continue reading “Garden Of Arms”
I dive into the back of the taxi, chest heaving as the scent of fake leather and fast food wraps around my body.
“Thomas!”Continue reading “Game On”
Well, well, well. I’m a little sad to say that it’s been a while since we were last here, talking the good talk about books. But, you know what they say: Better late than never. So, let’s get down to it, shall we?Continue reading “Book Review: Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas”
There’s something weird about the way scents permeate the air; the way they can tickle the senses and stimulate the memory banks of the brain. It’s weird, and some so utterly lovely.Continue reading “Blueberry Deception”
I love the way you call me from high above the starry sky.
I toss my gaze to the window, squinting the tired blear from my eyes. Old street lamps sit along the sidewalk, their lights stretching to enter this dark room. I curl my body forward, sitting up and removing the arm of my unknown night guest. My fingers curl around a large T-shirt; theirs or mine, I’ve not a clue.
My Keurig whirs to life in the kitchen and my senses awaken as my tired limbs carry me towards the machine. The scent of heavenly coffee drifts to my nose, wrapping around my fogged brain; I hold the filled mug close to my face, watching as the steam rises, telling the secrets of last night.
I keep my secrets to myself. Jumping, skipping, hopping all around, the knowing grin curling my chapped and cracked lips. Soft, melodic notes reverberate against my vocal cords; all is right in the world, but I know.
I know I can only keep the charade going for so long. What I release on those lined pages of the leather-bound notebook, tucked away beneath my pillows are far worse than the monsters under my bed.
Note: This features topics of sexual child abuse and rape that may be triggering.
It was the small things that set off the memories; the tick, tick, ticking of the clock in the living room as the wooden pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth; the smell of peppermint gum on my friend’s breath, or of the candy cane I ate at Christmas; even the taste of the air in my house had vomit burning the back of my throat.Continue reading “Power”