Scribblings
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Three o’Clock in the Morning

Three in the morning, an hour of woe, Breathes heartache and mourning and deepest sorrow. Its minutes are counted with seconds and sighs As in blanket-mound bed fears dance ‘fore sore eyes. The moments just lumber- a funeral dirge- While we, seeking slumber, turn, toss on its verge. The stillness is silence as cold as… Continue reading
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Requiem: a short story for a conservatory

Note: any resemblance to real places and people is probably not coincidental. ;) Enjoy! Requiem “Are the rumors true? Are they?” Trent, by far the youngest of the ghosts that inhabited Rowell Hall, rushed through a closed door and into the… Continue reading
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The Same Sun

“There is nothing quite like the moment when an idea strikes and you can whip out your notebook and favorite pen and scrawl away for an hour. I’ve been going nonstop for weeks now and was overjoyed to have time to write something other than my 30 page political manifesto. (*cries from post-paper-writing trauma*) Anyway,… Continue reading
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A Bigfoot Story
I’m currently on vacation in Montana with my family, staying in a charming cabin near Glacier National Park. The cabin has a guestbook in which visitors are asked to record the highlights of their stay. In flipping through it I became bored immediately. Most people wrote things like this: “Ate pizza and went skiing. Fun… Continue reading
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Organ Removal: A Statement and a Story

I often find that the most effective way of communicating a potentially controversial opinion is through storytelling. That said, I will let the following short story speak for me rather than explaining at length my views. Please let me know what you take away from this as I would like to know if my statement-through-story… Continue reading
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On the Platform
“Are you waiting for someone, miss?” “Yes.” “Would you prefer to sit in the waiting room?” “No thank you.” She had been sitting there for quite some time and the train station master was beginning to wonder if she was really waiting for anyone at all. She certainly appeared to be… Continue reading
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The Gardener
Their forks clicked in unison against the empty plates as they set them down, finished. The utensils were not the only things that had clicked. The meal had been delicious, the girl lovely, the man courteous, the conversation interesting and free of the awkward pauses generally ended by dull commentaries on the weather or the… Continue reading
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