Jacoby

He didn’t understand what to do. Jacoby was at a loss for words, though his mind was on a never-ending marathon. One sentence racing right past the next.

This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. Everyone’s lying. This is all a nightmare.

Continue reading “Jacoby”

Steam

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.

Time

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.

Power

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”

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑