It’s the little things that make me think of you. (the smell of stale smoke, brushing my hair, the way the boy at the corner stood as he waited for a bus). When they come, as thoughts often do, I’ll inhale, try to still my heart, flush the thoughts away, Of course it never works, but I can’t help but try, and maybe one day the little things will be just that: things.
Trinidad, A Love Letter
Tobago, I’m sorry, but you aren’t included in this letter. You are so wonderful and special and you deserve your own letter, but I am not the person to write it. Dear Trinidad, I love you. I love the curve of your coasts, I love the hills and swamps and landmarks that dot your form like freckles, I love the way the greens of the flora and the colours of the flowers take you and I love the way your accent dances across sentences and sings everything you say. You’re so talented and creative and intelligent, and you bring all…
The End
Ah, yet another piece that i started years ago and never finished. It doesn’t even want to tell me when it was created…. but i think about 2 years ago? either way i just finished it and i’m quite pleased with myself 🙂 read and hopefully enjoy ^_^ The End We are driving along the highway then crash, bang, then nothing. No sounds, no sights. I can’t feel my toothache, my back isn’t itching any more and toe has stop throbbing. My completely blank mind is tarnished by the advent of a thought: Am I dead? The sensory blackout is…
Flash Fiction Friday #3:
(no title yet…. i forgot what i wanted to call it : ) fff#3: (Starter) They never could get that right They never could get that right thought the old man wryly with a shake of his silver head. There was something in the act of taking off, the tension in his thighs, the effort of getting past the mental block to the allegedly impossible, the way that the ground buckled slightly when his feet eventually left the ground, that none of the books, the comics, the movies or the TV shows never got, far less for this made-for-TV movie….
Flash Fiction Friday #21: Fresh To Death
fff#21: (starter) it wasn’t how fresh It wasn’t how fresh his mark was whenever he went out, or the way his shirt hung just right, or the way his jeans hugged his hips and the demim kissed his skin, or the combination of dimples and bashful smile that always smelled of mint that got me, but it certainly helped.
Flash Fiction Friday #31: Dat Is Obeah
Fff#31: (idea inclusion) witch, egg(s), cave This one is a lil bit different cuz i’m not really to use the words, more the ideas of them…. which is what i was supposed to do last week but this one came out much better. i really like it actually ^_^ it lil long doh…. Kenny sat in his truck as he stared apprehensively at the house. It was one of those old wooden houses with shutters and fretwork that had fallen into the disrepair that came with age. Lonely tufts of grass sprouted between moss-covered, formerly white, pebbles. A large mango…