Patience

After so many meaningless lifetimes have passed, I am still waiting for mine. There is no curse greater than this. Waiting. A tomb is all I know; it is the world. Here I rest, my shoulders at each edge, waiting for a single mistake. This is when my life will begin. And worlds will end.

Happy Hallowe'en!

The Hunt

In the absence of light, we are greater than we were. We surrender ourselves to instinct and follow the fears of the world. The hunger is all that is. We hunt.

You are not scared, not yet. For now, I am as I was born. Soon, night will fall, and you will see me as I was reborn.

Run.

I promise we will find you.

Happy Hallowe'en!

The Monster

In the end, the doctor turned his back on the monster he had created. An entire lifetime wasted to achieve this failure. In its eyes was the reflection of his own flaws, his own fears. He expected beauty, and now saw only its absence. His creation was cold and lifeless, its movement was rigid, and its heart beat only because of him. It had no home with this world. Neither living or dead, it simply existed, and within it you could see none of the doctor's love.

On these dark and stormy nights, love forms in unexpected ways. But it is still love.

Happy Hallowe'en!

Dead Things

I waited on the other side of the room, as far from the door as I could get. They were strong but there's no way they could get through the things I piled in front of it. They looked like people I knew, but long ago. They weren't dead, I don't think, but they smelled like the dead. Their bodies were decaying. Maybe for years now. And they were moving, and moving things are generally alive, right? They tried to talk, I think. But like they weren't smart enough to do it properly. I was scared, but not scared enough. I never saw the open window.

Happy Hallowe'en!

An Invitation

You are so beautiful tonight, my love. You do not tire of waiting for me, when I finally come for you so long after the moon has risen. Tonight, we will dance under the stars to the music of everlasting night. You will know my hunger like never before, and you will come to darkness with me. You will be mine, my love. Please, ask me inside. I have life to show you.

Happy Hallowe'en!

Prelude To Dreaming

I've been having awful dreams again lately.

I'd love to share them with you very soon.

On The Beach

The entire restless night I couldn't shake the feeling of traveling to the end of the world, only to find that it's exactly the same as you remember, except without life.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Distance is a dangerous thing to make the heart wait and worry and want. There are days when all I want is for this week to be over, and there are other days when I worry about when it is. And in the end, all I can do is wait.

I'm putting together a submission for the upcoming Vancouver International Writers Festival. I will be entering one short story and two poems at a meagre cost of ten dollars apiece. (First place is $350 and second place is $250.) I wrote the story over a year ago and have been doing extensive editing on it recently. It's changed substantially during its literary growth, and I feel like it's much more mature now. Winners won't be announced until January, but I'll be sure to mention something when the gavel falls and the judges announce me.

And I think that when things settle down here in my new city I'll look into some writing classes. As wonderful a writer as I portray myself, there are many things that I do not know, and learning them on my own could take forever. And then again, maybe I could just keep faking it?

Muse

At times I feel like I've been holding my breath but then I understand that it's the thought of her that leaves me breathless. In her absence, I've focused on life. I've sorted through ambition and goal, personal and professional. I have breathed. Deeply. And when I exhale, I will move through my life at ease.

Redemption and Fault and Consequence

I am not the sum of my characters. I must learn to separate what I think from what they think, my wants from theirs. I took an objective look at something I wrote a year ago. Back then, I thought it was almost flawless except for one tiny detail that I couldn't figure out. Now I have. I believed the first person narrative was exactly as the character would tell the story, but it wasn't. The character has suffered more than I thought and he knew that his suffering was not over. The story cannot be about redemption because the character is of no such deserve; the story is of fault and consequence. And it goes much deeper than the weight of my pen.

Transparent

The mirror showed no reflection of my self. None. I smashed it with a clenched fist and it crashed to the ground in pieces. The wall behind it wasn't there. I could put my hand right through where it should be. I had no idea where I was.