I've moved!

I have moved, well my blog has. Due to technical jazz that could probably be fixed if I knew the slightest ounce about computers, this has become too tedious to maintain, so I've decided to put on my hat, pick up my umbrella and sing through the rain over to here;
http://leahgray.wordpress.com

Thank you to everyone who has been reading my posts here.
If that one doesn't work out I will return here (it already seems a tad too complicated for my mind). But we'll see. Or well, if you don't see me here again you'll know.
Cheers

His Name was Paris

I was sixteen when I had my first imaginary friend. It was entirely logical I suppose; a girl with an imagination of course needs someone to imagine. It was spurred after reading a book, where there was an imaginary friend, who ends up as some disturbing supernatural thing. That’s why I shut my imaginary friend away, just in case he’d start actually appearing behind me with a knife.
His name was Paris, after a dream I had recently had with a scar-covered boy of the same name. He had black hair, but that was all I could use to describe his appearance. Whenever I was on the bus he’d jump through the trees beside me, or hop on the roof of cars. We didn’t have many conversations, I’d watch him mostly; as he’d sit on people so oblivious to the smile in my head. It only lasted a week or so before I became too scared to let him into my mind anymore. I decided it was best, just in case there was a real monster there, to forget about him. And so I did. My first imaginary friend at the age of sixteen was gone from my life after a week.
I wonder if you see yourself in an imaginary friend, or if you see what you want to be. I think in some ways, I saw that in him. Not that I wanted to be male, but I think it was how he wasn’t afraid to do anything. He didn’t have to be, he could do anything. He was so lively and cheery and he enjoyed every moment. I think the ability to keep up with a moving bus helped. He wasn’t created to supplement a lack of real friends, nor there so we could sit down with a nice cup of tea and chat. He was there so that for a few moments, I could be jumping and dancing in the middle of the room whilst not having to explain the suddenness to anyone around me. He was there so I could go up to strangers and pull their hair, or bash on their windows. He was there so I could be everything I’m not.
I still remember him every now and then, and I’ll smile at him as he once again jumps through the trees. He was never a monster, and if he was then it would be only because I made him one. But he wasn’t, I made sure he left before I could do that to him. Perhaps sixteen is a bit old to have a first imaginary friend, or any imaginary friend at all, but when it’s a friend, you can never be too late. And frankly, a friend is a friend, regardless of whether they’re in your head or not, and you’ll have friends whatever age you are.

http://www.readwave.com/his-name-was-paris_s19852

Three Seconds

Three Seconds

 

In the beginning, when I was young, I had control over it, I was the master and it was at my command.  I was certain of it.  Now as time has gone by, I have fallen victim to its seductive lure more often than I care to admit.  It has become clear my control was an illusion and I am now at its whim.  I've tried to fight it, to control it, to hide how badly I need it and I confess...  I fear time is running out.  Everyone will know,  I am a time traveler. 

I can jump into the future at will.  Sometimes it's only a few minutes, sometimes it's as much as three hours but I assure you, I have the ability, the power to do so any time I wish.

It is a lonely responsibility to move through time but I am one of the lucky ones, I have a companion... Auggie.  To all outward appearances he is merely an over grown cat but believe me when I say he is in full belief he is a dog.

When he is not patrolling the fence line, he is faithfully at my side waiting for the opportunity of our next jump.  As you might expect the method is quite complex and the electronic equipment involved is beyond the understanding of an ordinary mind.  The choice of the right frequency is paramount to an early departure and ultimately the success of the jump.  Once chosen, usually a cooking ­channel, I take my place... reclining to allow Auggie access to my chest... it's the most comfortable position for him to stand guard over me and then, in what seems like a mere 3 seconds to me I am transported to the future.

"Nice nap?" my wife asks and I smile wryly comfortable in the knowledge I have successfully jumped once more and she is none the wiser... I am a time traveler and I have come from the past to help.

 

By Tegon Maus

 

 

You can check out more of Tegon Maus’ work here;

http://www.writerscafe.org/Tegonmaus

Down the road

Down the road

 

I used to live in a small broken down town in northern California, When I was a child me and my friends would spend our time entertaining each other by walking on railroad tracks, and throwing loose gravel at small targets. The town used to be prosperous when it housed a large USAF base Just outside of it, but since that closed down most of the businesses dried up and left. We lived there because it was a better alternative then being homeless. I spent a lot of time thinking about other places, going places in my mind, places I didn't think anyone else had ever been, Just trying to be any where but there, that place, after awhile, had become like a prison to me. I yearned to be anywhere but there. It happened one summer that just down the road, the wife of one of the towns preachers had shot him dead because he had cheated on her, after that more and more things started to go awry, something always felt off in that town, like it was a teakettle with to much steam built up inside waiting to spill over. Two months later just down the road my brothers best friend, Courtney, was kidnapped, raped and murdered, it was a tragedy. Whats most strange to me, is that after all this time I just now remembered this, this year to be precise, I had been to her funeral, I had seen her grieving parents and siblings. I suppose that seeing and being surrounded by all of this at the age of nine was just too much for my young brain to reconcile, and I just tried to forget it as best I could. I feel strange whenever I go back to that town now, I feel like a ghost, walking through its former life that can neither return nor dissipate into the ether. I moved down the road to another city, but sometimes I feel like that town is trying its best to call me back.

 

By 21drameus

 

You can check out more of 21drameus’ work here; http://www.writerscafe.org/21drameus

Coffee

Coffee

Something  I said to an online friend lately got me thinking.  There are two kinds of people in this world.  Those who like coffee, and those who don’t.  Coffee is really not a take it or leave it kind of thing like softdrinks or lemonade.  I like my coffee.  All kinds of it.  My favourite is strong and dark, and just hot enough not to burn my tongue, with just enough cream to take the bite out of it.  I can drink any and all sorts of coffee, but I do have my preferred brands.  Sometimes I just like to change it up a bit and have a cappuccino or a Turkish coffee.  When it’s a change it up kind of thing, it’s not that I like one over the other, but that sometimes different is just good. 

But the thing is about coffee, without it, I am a bitch.  I am moody, have headaches, am out of sorts, and not at all myself.  At those times, just about any coffee  will do, weak, bitter, two day old, or the dreaded instant coffee.

There is such a thing as bad coffee, but the only thing worse than bad coffee is none at all.

 

By KLGoode

 

You can check out more of KLGoode's work here; http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/amendoim1988/1269252/

Skies are Falling, Dear

Skies are Falling, Dear

Skies are falling, dear,

You said you'd wait til' then,

You ran right through the snow,

Yes, I do remember when,

You're drunk off of your spite,

Hypocracy's got you high,

Running out of sand,

Running out of Lye,

Dimes are falling as nickels,

Peering, Once released,

The contour of the sunlight,

You construe it as a beast,

Within boundaries you emit,

What I make as a toll,

Outside them you pull the stitches,

Of the wounds of mine you stole,

You're sullen as you stalk,

Anticipating my regret,

It's evident I have none,

Our deeds have surely met,

You give the prose of past,

Glorify your flight,

The clocks are ticking dawn,

Pouring fourth in light,

Skies are falling, dear,

You said you'd wait til' then,

I am the seed you'd sow,

Though, you don't remember when.

 

By trustmeimthedoctor

 

You can check out more of trustmeimthedoctor’s work here;
http://www.booksie.com/trustmeimthedoctor

 

Across The Crystal Crimson Sands

Across The Crystal Crimson Sands

Across the crystal crimson sands

a shadow bends to pray,

another soldier clings to life

but gives his life today.

through the haze of smoke and screams

he listens to their pleas,

with bloody hand upon his heart

he bows upon his knees.

He looks the soldier in the eyes

but death is all he sees,

still he prays, his faith is strong

will this hatred ever cease?

Someone lost their father

their brother and their son,

to the mercy of their country

whom handed him the gun.

What's left for him to fight for

how much more will it take,

the fear of death consumes him

he knows his souls at stake.

Many shadows walk the sands

of tears and crimson red,

each one bowed upon their knees

another soldier's dead.

Under the stone of marble

beneath the mound of clay,

a brave and courageous soldier

slowly fades away.

Tomorrow he'll be forgotten

as another takes his place,

a shadow soon shall mourn for him

his soul he will embrace.

Across the crystal crimson sands

silence falls upon the dead,

this battle has finally ended

its remains of bone and lead.

 

By angellynn

You can check out more of angellynn’s work here;http://www.booksie.com/angellynn