The Stage. The Lights. The Magic.

Photo by Dininda Paranahewa 2 more days. It’s not enough. Here I sit, on a Saturday morning, still bleary-eyed with sleepiness, with my mug of steaming milo sitting next to me, and I’m panicking. Not in a hysterical, running-about-screaming sort of way. It’s a more insidious type of panic, lining your insides like a coat…

The Carver.

Wednesday morning at 5 am by curlytops He carved. By profession. By character. Everything he did had an element of cleaving to it; a sense of tearing in two. And he fascinated her. Interesting people always had an uncanny ability to lure her in and she knew she was caving, but she did so anyway….

Insightful much?

  Thanks to TMS, as always, for providing me with a fun 5-minute distraction from my current lack of literary inspiration. Your Brain is 73% Female, 27% Male Your brain leans femaleYou think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you’re tough enough not to let anyone take…

Mirror mirror…

Mirror, by audpod Overdosing on Benadryl. Not the most glamorous way to go.   My mind keeps shutting itself down and I’ve literally drifted off about a hundred and fifty times today already. Stuffing my face with short bread biscuits in an attempt to keep awake. My jaws are on overdrive. But I’m still sleepy….

Water

  Courtney Cruz Shower, by PerryGallagher   It’s been a long slog home. Her shoes are caked with mud and she feels sorry for them, but not sorry enough to wash them. A job for the weekend, she tells herself. For now, it’s herself that she longs to clean.   She kicks off the shoes…

Reality Bites

butterflies, by smile-d   The girl fidgeted in the heat of the afternoon. She was at her grandmother’s house for lunch with her parents and some other guests and she was bored. Grown-up shop talk didn’t interest her. She yawned, staring at the slow moving blades of the fan, trying to hang her vision on…