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
Tag: Harvard
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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
Glare
There were two groups. Mine and Glare’s. He drew people to him and held them. I know he talked about me a lot. He spoke on my faults and railed about what a horror I was. But always there was a respect between us. Glare was perfect. A sinister side of my coin. He was… Continue reading Glare
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
The Long Dark Road
“Do you know the last time he took a bath?” Careful asked. I held the phone in my hand and looked at the ceiling. The kitchen light was off, and I was on the floor. It was cold and I was getting pissed. The thing with Careful was growing a darker shade than I wanted… Continue reading The Long Dark Road
To Destroy Something Beautiful
It wasn’t long before Harvard read for Writers Club. To my recollection he read in Writers Club twice. This first time, it was a poem. It was dark, gritty. It gave off a rotting smell, had sour breath. It was a poem that made you feel like being other places, a poem to curl the… Continue reading To Destroy Something Beautiful
