Tag: Rise of the Storyteller
-
Rise of the Storyteller 37: The Secret to Teardrop Road
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. And it’s on a loop in my head now, words I spoke, words I wrote, words that consumed my every breathing, every living moment. For I loved my…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 36: The Beginning of My Life
“If you make them leave, all of them, you can do anything you want to me all night.” It’s probably three o’clock in the morning, and this is Trashy’s last effort. Trashy is a girl who knows she’s hot. She’s been convinced by every man who ever touched her, every boy who ever looked at…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 35: Stained Glass Light
There were four ways to get to college, as described to me by mother when I was a freshman in high school. 1) You were born rich, filthy rich, and it was paid for by your parents. 2) You got perfect grades from sixth grade to senior year and you got a scholarship. 3) You…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 34: One Last Bite
There was a pounding on my door that didn’t wake me from my stupor. Its suddenness, its violence didn’t alarm me or cause me to jump. I took it as easy as the next breath. And though the pounding on my door was oppressive and angry, it was almost as if I had been expecting…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 33: Conditional Love
A man once told me a mother’s job is to teach the child about unconditional love. The father has a more difficult job. Of course, the father loves the child unconditionally, but he must teach the child about conditional love. He must hold the child accountable for his or her actions. If the child doesn’t…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 32: Draconic
One day, while I was on the phone with Draconic, her sister yelled from the background, “Is that Weiner Schnitzel?” Draconic hissed and the sister laughed. We went on talking. I pretended I did not hear her nickname for me, because I knew what it meant. She could not get me hard. No matter how…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 31: Call Backs
I was leaning against the wall in the hallway before school. There were kids everywhere. Teachers. There were colors and textures, hair and eyes, and all of it made of the world a swift moving wave of emotions and sensations that brought my head to swimming. I closed my eyes, focused, and, in the mess…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 30: The Four Queens
I won’t talk about my sophomore year. I plotted my own death three times that year. I ran with the worst people I could find. I hurt people, and myself. I dated a spattering of girls I left behind me like a carpet of broken hearts. I had been abandoned and it was drying me…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 29: The Mother of All Writing
My freshman year of high school was a rough one. It was peppered with fights and attitude, sleepless nights and more sleepless nights. It was the year I found out I was bipolar. It was the year I learned how not to be treated by a girl. It was a year filled with destructive patterns…
-
Rise of the Storyteller 28: The Waynesville High School Mafia
The problem was, things changed quite a bit when I got to high school. What was a middle school filled with country boys and church goers piled into the high school that also took in the kids from Fort Leonard Wood, the army base outside of town. The almost all-white middle school became diverse freshmen…
Jesse Teller 