TheSpiritx

This is a story. Well, by that, I mean it has a beginning and an end. It has a climax, reaching a critical mass in the nuclear reactor of drama and a denouement as soft as the greenest rolling hills under a radiant sun, so carefully constructed, the story's end is that single point in a sunset where you're not sure if it's done setting. It has characters so fully developed that you'd think them real. Because they ARE real. And the setting?  Well, it's here.  It's here and now - that's where it starts, anyway. The plot twist makes little Laura Cleveland, the girl in your third grade class with the tightest curls y

My carpet is my own. It has lines across it - strips of dark and light sand-colored shades that indicate, perhaps, an incessant need for cleanliness. Barely visible under alternating trails, areas of fiber, once crushed underfoot, still showing the remains of that weight. Some shaped like feet themselves, some like shoes, and some like boots during those times I am running late, but all the same size. My carpet is not new, but its patterns recognize only me. Its wear and tear, fraying on the edge that sticks out against the wall by the back door where no footprints are to be found, and the stain behind my chair, slightly ora

Mika’s jaw crackled as she snapped her all-natural, cruelty-free spearmint chewing gum. She paused, frowning, and flexed her jaw once, twice, went back to chewing. One more flaw, she figured. This body was full of them. She stretched, savoring the pops in her spine. The sun, high in the sky, banished the shadows to tiny puddles beneath half-dead trees. It hadn’t rained in a long time, she noted. She should water her plants. Sighing, she pocketed her battered copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra and stood. Pain shot through her legs, old injuries and a byproduct of hours spent still. She grimaced and tucked her dreads behind her shoulder.