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It’s like sonar, the way that his voice reaches me, fills me up, guides me. It’s like a light at the end of the dark and damp tunnel, the one that makes me feel weak and useless and utterly lost. I feel his words resonate in my bones. His words hit me with intense force and fill me up. It’s like nothing else.

Posted By Veerin On 07.17.2012 @ 7:02 pm

It was a mistake. All Dean wanted to do was agitate them a little bit, give Sammy a little scare. But the next thing he knew he was dashing for the car with Sam’s chubby hand in his, the buzz of dozen of angry bees loud in his ears. Tears rolled down over Sam’s red cheeks as Dean counted the stings on his arms; one, two, four, seven. He bit his lip and whispered a sorry, shoulders suddenly like lead.

Posted By Veerin On 01.26.2012 @ 8:29 am

I saw the immediate slouch of his shoulders. He sank back into the chair, burying himself in his coat and the thick scarf wound around his neck. It was as though he wished he could invisible. He didn’t want anyone to see him for what he really was. Not even himself.

Posted By Veerin On 12.01.2011 @ 12:33 pm

A couple flicks of the wrist, a fist and a slap, fingers locking and finally pulling away. “Radical,” they said in unison.

Posted By Veerin On 10.21.2011 @ 11:25 am

Her advice is terrible. She’s got lots of great qualities, a pretty little present with all the bows and ribbons. But her advice is absolutely terrible.

Posted By Veerin On 10.15.2011 @ 6:21 pm

There’s no way to tell its spring here. There aren’t any flowers or birds. There isn’t sweet, fresh, perfume air outside. There isn’t warmth and relaxation. There’s dirt and darkness and air that kills. Its spring because the calendar says so, not because you can feel it.

Posted By Veerin On 10.13.2011 @ 8:31 am

There’s no way to tell it’s spring here. There aren’t any flowers or birds. There isn’t sweet, fresh, perfume air outside. There isn’t warmth and relaxation. There’s dirt and darkness and air that kills. It’s spring because the calendar says so, not because you can feel it.

Posted By Veerin On 10.13.2011 @ 8:28 am

The iron bar is cold in his sweaty hands, eyes searching in the darkness for her figure. He hears a shout and spins around. He swings the iron, slicing the smoky woman in two. She lets out a screech as she disappears, body flashing and contorting. He smiles, gets a smile back.

Posted By Veerin On 10.10.2011 @ 5:50 am

It’s a mystery why–after everything–he still cares about me. He still throws himself in the line of fire to keep my safe. He still stitches me up and lends me a coat and lets me sleep on long drives. It’s like a dream. A dream and a nightmare rolled into one.

Posted By Veerin On 10.09.2011 @ 6:04 am

It tastes like salt in his mouth. It’s unwelcome and unexpected and too much. He can’t believe he’s said it but there it is, out in the open, pulling tears from the other boy’s eyes. He swallows, shocked at himself. He knows then what he wants to say, but he doesn’t get the chance. Suddenly it’s too late.

Posted By Veerin On 09.02.2011 @ 6:32 pm

It’s when he feels most at home. The familiar feel and scent and sound of the car. The scenery passing by in a rush outside the window. And he’s not alone here. There’s blaring music and off-key singing and glances and smiles every now and then. He can’t help but to feel safe there, even if absolutely nothing is safe outside.

Posted By Veerin On 08.09.2011 @ 4:54 pm

The brick wall was damp against my back. I shivered, shaking rain from my bangs like a wet dog. I got a frustrated glance in response. The air was thick with moisture as I sucked in a breath, waiting for the signal. It was all down hill from there.

Posted By Veerin On 08.08.2011 @ 6:30 pm

It’s like all of a sudden he just can’t give a damn. He doesn’t try to pick the lock so it can be used again later. He takes out his gun and shoots it to pieces, then grabs my arm and pulls me inside, slamming the door behind us. I stumble over to the nearest dusty chair and slump into it, wincing as sharp pain blazes behind my eyes. He’s quick to follow me. He tilts back my head with unusually gentle hands and analyzes the deep wounds on my face, the bloodied bump on my head. He lets out a sigh; a long, relieved sigh that tells me I’m alright. Nothing too serious. And even though he’s worn and exhausted and cradling what I think must be a dislocated elbow, he flashes me a reassuring smile. I just see it through my eyelashes as I pass out. I sleep easy because of it.

Posted By Veerin On 08.06.2011 @ 4:38 am

It becomes apparent that he just doesn’t give a damn at that moment. He doesn’t bother with carefully picking the lock so it can be used later on. He takes out his gun and shoots it to pieces, then grabs my arm and pulls me inside, slamming the door behind him. I stumble over to the nearest dusty chair and slump down into it, biting my lip as a sharp pain blazes behind my eyes. He’s quick to follow me. He tilts back my head with unusually gentle hands and analyzes the deep wounds on my face, the bloodied bump on my head. He lets out a sigh; a long, relieved sigh which immediately tells me that I’m okay. Nothing is too serious. And though he’s worn and exhuasted and nursing what I think must be a dislocated elbow, he gives me a reassuring smile. I just see it through my eyelashes as I pass out. I sleep easy because of it.

Posted By Veerin On 08.05.2011 @ 6:57 pm

Keep me here. Trap me. I always end up thinking about you, but I have no idea if you ever think about me. I’m boiling over. I’m sick of feeling like this. Like a bad guy for nothing. I didn’t do anything. You changed, not me. I want to know what happened. I want to know if you miss me too. I want to know if we are just going different ways and that’s it. I need some sort of closure. I hate having to wonder. I don’t know if I should do something or not. Do you even want to hear from me? I hate this. I hate this so much.

Posted By Veerin On 08.02.2011 @ 8:16 pm

It wasn’t easy to get a straight answer. He felt like he was always going around in circles, asking the wrong questions and taking the wrong chances. But all he wanted to do was get to the root of the problem. It was too hard to be trapped in the same situation every day. He wanted out.

Posted By Veerin On 08.01.2011 @ 7:49 pm

He holds the ticket in his hands, tightly, because if it was caught by the wind and taken away he doesn’t know how he could go on. He feels so torn. That ticket could take him somewhere he wanted to be, somewhere where things would be easier. But at the same time, he was leaving so much behind. So much that mattered to him, even if things had changed.

Posted By Veerin On 07.23.2011 @ 5:43 am

He holds the cigarette between his fingers, thoughts obviously somewhere else. He raises it to his mouth, breathes in, puffs out. The smoke billows out and swiftly floats away. It’s hypnotizing, the way he moves. It’s as though he’s always mindful of what he’s doing and is incredibly good at hiding it. I feel almost certain he knows I’m watching.

Posted By Veerin On 07.15.2011 @ 3:46 pm

I’d never seen her with bows in her hair. It was always tied back, in braids or messy buns, with an elastic band. She looked stunning. It caught me off guard.

Posted By Veerin On 07.14.2011 @ 4:12 pm

The stem of the flower was thick and it took me an embarrassingly long time to pull it’s roots from the ground. She was happy when I presented it to her, even though she knew I must have stolen it from the garden outside the grocery store. She placed it in an old, cracked vase by the kitchen’s tiny window.

Posted By Veerin On 07.05.2011 @ 8:11 pm

Bridget’s hair was pulled back in a messy but rather intricate braid. It lay against the side of her neck and dangled over the pages of the book in her hands, shining in the early morning glow from the window. She caught me looking at her and gave me a light smack in the arm. I saw her smile behind her hand.

Posted By Veerin On 07.01.2011 @ 7:03 pm

I see the honesty in her eyes. Her words seem so strange, so unbelievable, but I do believe them. It’s hard not to when she looks at me that way. It’s like she’s seeing me for who I am and trusting me enough to let me know who she really is.

Posted By Veerin On 07.01.2011 @ 8:02 am

I had never wondered about the sky or what lay beyond it before. The very first time was at the station, staring out the window at the silvery shuttle that would be taking us up. For a second, I thought that perhaps space would be beautiful. It always looked beautiful in photos. But that thought passed quickly. The feeling of being on solid ground was beautiful to me.

Posted By Veerin On 06.17.2011 @ 3:25 pm

Maybe things aren’t perfect. Maybe things will never, ever be perfect after I do this. But they’re both there, smiling gently, because they truly believe that it will work out alright. For a moment, as I sink a bit deeper into the cold water, I believe it too.

Posted By Veerin On 06.16.2011 @ 4:29 pm

The train is quieter than I expected, but maybe that’s because all I want to hear is him.

Posted By Veerin On 06.15.2011 @ 6:39 pm

He couldn’t go to his parents’ funeral. At that time he was barely able to speak, let alone stand. The doctors asked him if he remembered them or what happened to them, but the answer was always no. It gave me a sick feeling in my stomach, a feeling I wasn’t used to.

Posted By Veerin On 06.12.2011 @ 9:47 am

Just hearing the word makes Myles look away, smile suddenly gone. He starts chewing on the inside of his lip. After the accident, he forgot so much about his past that he was unable to put the pieces together of who he really was. Sure, the doctors knew, but he didn’t. And for some reason, he didn’t want to go back to who he was. He kept telling me he was someone else now, and that’s when I gave him his new name.

Posted By Veerin On 06.07.2011 @ 2:13 pm

Most of the walls of the house were covered in old wallpaper, either slightly yellowed or peeling in places. But the kitchen was bare. So, Bridget brought a few cans of paint from her attic, and Myles discovered brushes in the basement. We painted the kitchen with all the colors we had; blue, green, white, brown. Then with tiny brushes and black ink we signed our names in the bottom corner. The three of us. Together.

Posted By Veerin On 06.06.2011 @ 1:17 pm

Once we find it, I don’t even bother taking it to the office. Nu and I smuggle it home and hang it in the kitchen. In a few days we’ve covered it with dates and recipes and things we’ve had to get rid of but don’t want to forget. I worry our chalk will be worked down to just a stub before next week. I promise myself I won’t rest until I find more.

Posted By Veerin On 06.04.2011 @ 7:54 pm

There’s no radio up this high. Neil wishes there was, tells me so every day. Finally I get the message and make him a CD, full of random songs that I hope he might be into. He takes the present with a bit of an odd glance my way, but I know he appreciates it. He knows every lyric to every melody now.

Posted By Veerin On 06.03.2011 @ 1:27 pm