In the end they all turned on me. Or I walked away. Or the money ran out. Or it all just got to be too much. The Writers Club crowd that had somehow morphed into the Degenerates died. We came apart as if tossed by a cold wind. We got a place together as the… Continue reading The Last Bit of Warmth
Tag: Cry
Lost
That day in group I read my vampire story. He was a power creature. A beautiful creature. Mysterious and dark. He was a tragic beast who hurt those around him and brought despair, and I knew him miserable. So I killed him. In the story, this powerful vampire climbs to the roof of the building… Continue reading Lost
Home
Aimes was reading. Her piece was about heartbreak and pain. It was about loss, and the way a girl could be thrown away and forgotten. Aimes was probably my best friend. We had been friends since the first day of seventh grade, when she came to the bus after school, shell-shocked and dazed. We had… Continue reading Home
Unbridled
“Fuck the intercom,” Brett read. He had needed something to read at Group. This was what he had come up with. “Fuck the fucking intercom.” It used to interrupt us with announcements all the time in the middle of a reading. “Fuck the fucking, fucking intercom.” Mrs. Bronte erupted. “This is not appropriate for this… Continue reading Unbridled
In the Dark with the Kat
Aimes read a love story. It was short and broke my heart. Steeped in pain and sweetened with a thin slice of hope, her tale of heartache lay upon us all soft like a dusting of snow on the shoulders of Writers Club. Cry read a vampire tale. Brett read, like he did every time,… Continue reading In the Dark with the Kat
Writers Club
“Is she going to be there?” I asked Chanel as I walked through the halls. She looked up at me and smiled. “She will be. Jammy will be there. They will all be there, even the ones that haven’t met you before. Writers Club will be a full house.” She hugged me and walked away.… Continue reading Writers Club
The Lost Soul
“Did you hear that?” I asked. Heart had heard it. It was the meow of a kitten, couldn’t have been a cat. The sound was soft and low, a murmur, a sigh of a call. Not for help, maybe for food. “Poor baby is lost. Where is it?” I was losing interest. I would not… Continue reading The Lost Soul
