Jesse Teller

Tag: Katty

  • Lost Confessions: Sacred

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    You have to understand Shadow was a monster. When we found him he was diagnosed as a sociopath. He was a dangerous person to know. And it was so much worse when he was in high school. Back then, he was hurting everyone he came into contact with. So few people were safe from him.…

  • Home

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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…

  • Unbridled

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    “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…

  • Glare

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    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…

  • In the Dark with the Kat

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    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,…

  • To Destroy Something Beautiful

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    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…

  • The Lost Soul

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    “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…

  • The Man on the Bridge

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    There were about seven of us that night. Chanel, Katty, Walleye, Jammy, Ty, and Harvard had brought me to the bridge, to let the night envelop us and to get away. Back then we just parked on the bridge itself, blocking traffic and not caring a bit about it. The door to Harvard’s car was…

  • The Sacrifice

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    I love you and I can’t live without you. I love you and I can’t live without you. I love you and I can’t live without you. On and on, I had done this one time before. When I was in fourth grade, I had written I hate Dan Demit over and over again. He…