Category: Creative Writing & Short Stories
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Logging Off?
Yeah, 10 hours yesterday / I am happy though / (happier than most) / Satisfied, even / I mean, the rush is never as strong as the first time it hit / but at least something is guaranteed / it’s the internet / there always *has* to be something out there / something else to…
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moon lover, star gazer
we’re at the bottom of a well / looking through to the heavens / why are you crying? you’re like the sun honey / the sun / why are you crying? / i’m here. i’m right here. / every staple on the telephone pole was once a cat who was lost / found. / a…
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The Wall in My Therapist’s Office
At the end of every appointment, I drag myself from her office, walking past the vibrant banners. Each flag is illustrated with its own colors and flown by its own people. Like a lighthouse, they guide the lost home. Like a moon on the water, they create peace amongst the chaos of the world. The…
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VITA EXPERIENCIA
mihi vita est miraculum. During the day, I was visited every hour. A nurse for every year. A rub of alcohol and a bit of saline twice as often. There were the IVs. The shots.I was reminded of my grandmother’s needle cushions watching the breaking surface of my skin. The nurses always asked, “Do you…
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“Buddy”
Between the wire-barbed bar, lens cap of his life, he can see a worker approaching his cage. This time, she does not offer him food. She reaches for the sign above his cage (“Puppy for Sale”) and pulls it down, the replacement already under-arm. “Dog for Sale; Marked Down.” Partially paid for by what it…
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Tell Us How You Feel
I’m sitting on a city bench, running on empty. Whatever vividness used to live here has just. Burned out. That space of empty space. Lost in something I have lost. It’s a feeling not like ice, but ash asking, “Where do I go from here?” And then staring at the ground beneath my feet. Losing…
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When We Are Reclaimed
Slow-dancing to jazz, they waltz down the street, framed by an orange sky. It’s the end of the world; the cries of deep voices mix indiscriminately with shrill ones, reverberating endlessly down the road. Dark figures, veiled in the unknown of shadow, watch from buildings far back as the lovers dance across the asphalt. The…
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Wishes of Sugar and Insulin (Varies by the Day)
She’s sitting by the fire, drawing with a pencil and crayons. Her phone (though she wishes it was a dog) whines at her side, begging for notice. My service dog is hungry, she tells herself, flipping over to maintain the strange creature, growling and groaning. Her stomach flips as she does it, turning on the…
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Sixty Minutes Mortal
The goddess played with the elixir in her hands, watching as the liquid sloshed back and forth against the glass walls of the bottle. The golden glowing potion called her name. Temptation was always her most dangerous game but, oh, she would be lying if she said it wasn’t the most fun. A cork closed…
Hazel J. Hall 