Dream Journal- Part One: Grim Reaper



I have decided, as a way to exercise my creative juices, I’m going to start posting my dreams. It will be a great way to (hopefully) improve my memory and work on my dusty writing. I haven’t been in the creative writing mood lately, so hopefully this will help…

Last night, my boyfriend called me when he got out of work, around 10:15pm. I had fallen asleep in the living room while watching some extremely weird stick-figure movie on Netflix about this guy named Bill, who was terminally ill and then wasn’t but was still sort of losing his mind…

Kyle asked me what we were going to eat when he got home, and I said I would turn on the oven and make chicken nuggets when he got there. “And Pizza Logs?” He asked.

“You’re going to make Pizza Logs?”

“Yes, I can make Pizza Logs.”

And that was the extent of the conversation. We hung up and I snuggled into his pillow that I hadn’t realized until that moment, smelled like his shampoo, and fell asleep.

You’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die…

The doorknob jingled and I awoke startled as Kyle unlocked the door. I greeted him with a hug and kiss and went to turn on the oven. All the while, that ominous voice rang in my mind: You’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die…

Not much to that dream, just left me with a creepy feeling the rest of the night. Thanks for the read, more to come!


Wildest Dreams- Drive


When I asked where we were going, Mr. Prent replied, “Let’s get out of this town; drive out of the city, just… get away from these crowds of students and teachers…” And witnesses.

“I like the sound of that.”

So we went on a long drive. No destination in sight. Maybe Mr. Prent got the feeling too. He has somewhere- he didn’t know where yet, that he had to go.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke in the passenger seat, but Mr. Prent was laying in the bed of his truck, staring into the stars. I climbed out, realizing we were in a cemetery. Of all places to go, I wondered, why there?

Not that I cared. I am the picnic in the cemetery kind of gal. But she strongly advised against it- like everything else- and suggested I find more “appropriate” interests.

I wonder if she would have found this appropriate.

I didn’t say anything. Mr. Prent just looked so far away; deep in some other world. Instead, I laid there next to him. The cool metal sent chills up my spine and I shivered in the warm autumn night. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I layed my head on his chest. His cologne reminded me of a cool ocean breeze that swallows you whole… his scent is still in my hair.

I’m not sure how long we laid like that for. I started off counting seconds in his heartbeats. One, two, three, fo-ur, fivesix, seven, eight, nine, tah-en. But doing that only made me sleepy. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to hold this moment in the now and have it last forever.

I should know better than anyone, nothing lasts forever. Especially not happiness. I was happy once-upon-a-time. When I had parents- real ones- but it was so long ago it feels like a dream. Or a nightmare.

I guess he knows about this too. It was the cemetery where both his father and brother were buried. A robbery gone wrong. Mr. Prent was in college. His mother was grocery shopping. To come home and see her son and husband askew on the kitchen floor. I could just imagine her walking into the house, wondering why the door was already open. She’s talking to them- not knowing they can’t hear- going on about a great special she got at the market. Then she sees them. The blood. And bags fall out of her hands in slow-motion… It’s all a little too familiar.

A passage of Wildest Dreams & a picture It & Write inspiration!

Runaway Train


The first in a series of short stories inspired by Songs.

Pressing the dials on the payphone, I called her up in the middle of the night.

All was dark and quiet. I felt like a firefly without a light. She was a blowtorch always calling me to her side.

She picked up on the first ring.


“It’s me.”

“Where are you? I didn’t even hear you leave…”

“I’ve just, I’m so tired I can’t even sleep. There’s so many things…” So many things I couldn’t say. I promised myself I wouldn’t weep, yet here I was crying into the receiver. Just another promise for me to break.

“What is it?”

I looked out into the silent night. Mindlessly, I fiddled with the ticket in my hand. Bending the corner in ever so slightly. It was paper-thin, and weightless, I knew. But somehow it weighed at least ten pounds in my hand. I struggled to keep ahold of it.

What was I going to say to her? What could I say? There was no one who could help me now, not even her or her sweet voice. “I’m just in too deep,” I muttered into the phone.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was beginning to become shrill and break. Even then it was soft and smooth. A little quieter she asked, “What did you do?”

Thunder shook the black night. “I don’t want to talk about that.” Then, before she could say another word, I began. “Remember when we went to the lake? You wore that teal sequined dress and waded into the water with it still on…”

“It still smells like dirty lake water.”

I smiled. Remembering that moment always made me smile. How she ran full force into the soul-chilling, bone-freezing water. Pausing only to turn back at me, her black-blue hair slapping her in the face, to smile. I wondered if I would still remember. Remember how to smile where I was going.

How did things end up this way? I wondered. So jaded.

Thunder roared overhead and the clouds rumbled as they burst into droplet s of rain. Small and soft at first. Then they began to fall down harder and faster.

“What is this all about?”

Her question echoed in my mind. The ticket grew heavier in my grip. I was going somewhere no one else could and now I knew something no one else did. Nothing was right any more. Not cut or dried, day or night, earth or sky; none of it seemed real.

What was real was I was leaving. I couldn’t say why. I couldn’t begin to explain where.

A horn broke through the sound of rain colliding with the solid ground.

Where no one else had been. That’s where I’d be. I laughed. Laughed at the irony. The ridiculousness. I laughed at the misery. The pain. I laughed. I laughed. I laughed at the rain.

“Is this a joke?”

The horn was louder now.

The train pulled up to the station, tearing up the tracks.

“I have to go now. I’m not coming back.”

“What? Where are you going?”

I could hear the sob caught in her throat. See the tears running down her rose-petal cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” I hung up the phone.

I handed my one-way ticket to the man. I would never return. Where I was going I would never exist again. Not here. Not there. Not without her.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

I could only nod.

The train started back up. I could feel it vibrate through my veins.

I didn’t know where I would go or what I would become.

But the light of his halo calmed my thoughts as I rode the train home.




He could hear the ticking echo through his ears. When the minute hand moved he felt the stinging in his heart which grew stronger and stronger. He knew he was running out of time.

His breath felt like thunder, shaking in his bones. Each step he ran was a race against the hour hand.


The pain in his chest brought red dots to his eyes. Stumbling on the pavement he kept on because he knew he had no time.

Collapsing inside their cage, his lungs began to cave. Every breath was forced and shallow. The doubt began to fill in the hollow thoughts. Would he make it?


He lost his breath. The pain spread from his chest like a virus. The world before him began to blur. Like a blind man he kept forwards. His feet like cement, the effort to keep moving torturous. His whole body ached, but he could not stop now.


A cry escaped his lips. Everything was cloaked in darkness. He was so close. Nearly there. But time keeps ticking and his end was near.

Just move forward. Don’t give in.


His heart began to beat in time with the second hand. Each heartbeat roared in his head. His rib cage tightened, restricting his lungs, and crushing his heart. No longer could he continue on as his legs buckled underneath his weight.

Her arms reached for him, but she was too late. By the time she revealed the watch attached to his chest, the hour and minute hand ticked together as he let out his last breath.

With a sob she took the device in her hand and removed the brass watch from his flesh. The golden numbers spread around the face was covered with a brass rib-cage.

Just a little something I cooked up after this week’s picture it & write photo. Check it out!

Sigh Of Death


I looked deep into his crystal eyes and knew it was the end.

With his warm, strong hands wrapped  around my neck I could hear my heartbeat  echoing within my eardrums. It slowed itself to a dull hum as the black crept into the corners of my vision. Not once did either of us break eye-contact. Not even to blink.

The deep abyss of his pupils seemed to widen as if  to pull me in.

I was already in.

My hands loosely held onto his thick wrists, not even bothering to struggle. What use was there? I knew from the start he would be the one. That this  would be  my fate.

His hands grew tighter and  tighter like an anaconda wrapping itself around  my body. I went numb under the pressure. The black was everywhere by then; masking all from my vision. All but those eyes. Just as uneasy to read as they had always been, they were hard as stone.

My heart was no longer a wild drum of  fear  and panic but a single strum of  surrender. And as the last note  played,  his  open lips covered mine as he inhaled my sigh of  death, breathing  in my soul.

Teetering Edge


On the ledge
Water’s edge
Face to face with death

Falling to pieces
You’re my glue
But what if your presences ceases?

Teetering on the cliff
The slightest amount of wind
And I could plummet

Slowly sliding off
Will you catch me
Or let me fall?

Life Or Death


It blew its hot breath in my face
The clamminess of it sent shivers down my spine
I could tell by its methodical gaze
That it weighed my life in its claws.
Which would it choose?
The breath I dared not breath
Burned in my chest, just begging
Begging me to open my mouth
But I knew if I answered this request
I would be a dead man.
I kept as still as a statue
Or pretty damn close
As its tail slithered around me
And it jabbed at me with its nose.
Which would it choose?
My eyes risked themselves
As they looked around
At the armored men
Sprawled out, dead, on the ground.
For that was the fate
When you challenged the beast.
A certain death
As it sears the meat
Off your bones
In a fire tornado.
Oh the cities its burned!
The lives it takes
It rules the earth
With the most ferocious beauty.
My life
My death
Which will it be?
I sense the final decision being made
As it rears its scaly head toward my face.
Its nostrils flare with each breath
Like it takes pleasure
Playing with death.
Its tail slaps rhythmically
On the floor of the cave
Sending little tremors
Up my legs.
The eyes stare into me
The pupil’s a black diamond
It searches my eyes like it’s asking me a question.
Its eyes burst with lime green and yellow
Dancing like the fire it breaths
Around its unique pupils.
Its claw reaches to my face
And the breath I’ve held
Gives way.
The colors in its eyes
Snap and crackle
As it breathes out its toxic flames.
It’s all the same.

Another _picture it & write creation. <—–check  it out!!!!!