It was a Friday afternoon. Richard had noticed that events were cowards: they didnt occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once. –Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere This website, and even more specifically this blog, was intended to catalog my personal creative work. However, today and possibly again […]
Read More Progression of a Writer; Day 28The following note was written in April of last year. I can no longer recall where I was and who I was with. Do we become disconnected from our past? Or does it continue to haunt our present? I sit here contemplating if I am in fact wasting time. If I should be doing something […]
Read More Progression of a Writer; day 24You wake up thirty minutes later than usual. It’s Friday, life is good, and the morning is here! The dishes in the sink aren’t a hassle to clean, their chatter as they are washed and stacked mingle together with the songs of sparrows outside the window. They seem ever excited for the new day and […]
Read More FridayAbel’s eyes grew heavy. He could feel the blood pump rhythmically through the tender skin of his eyelids, every beat adding a pound of weight. He wanted nothing more than to give in to the weight, let those tiny doors shut him into the darkness, and have them be locked tight by long tangled lashes. […]
Read More Running on ShuffleI wanted to know the name of every stone and flower and insect and bird and beast. I wanted to know where it got its color, where it got its life – but there was no one to tell me. -George Washington Carver “Five…” Jake slurred out the word, his hands getting sweating as his […]
Read More Colorblind, hue #2I wanted to write something different. Something that you could later describe to a friend as quirkey or weird. Anything really. As long as it was not ordinary. As long as it stayed away from that black spot of the human mind where things are lost, hiding behind the affirming nods and understanding smiles. It’s […]
Read More The mission of a story.She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. The door was colored white, but she could see through the exposed scars the original grain of the wood. Through the door was black. Calling it “dark” would be an understatement. It seemed she had found the negative […]
Read More DarknessI gasped for life, knowing full well at that moment I should have been dead. I sucked up madly every last droplet from whatever source the water had come from. I could no longer remember how long it had been since I had last had a drink. In order to survive I let myself fall […]
Read More DesperationFor those interested, the following is a description of the morning of a young author… The author wakes a little before dawn. Not out of practice or discipline but out of necessity from a stomach ache that could no longer be ignored or treated by rolling over in bed. So the author finally rises, first […]
Read More Progression of a writer; Day 20Since I had set out to continuously write on this website, it is remarkable to find that only nineteen days have been recorded thus far. And while there are instances when other works stand in place for a given day, I had assumed to be much “older” as it were. The original purpose of this […]
Read More Progression of a writer; Day 19
inkandsea.com 