DeathPeople are hereDeath by TheStoyTeller
and then they are not.
we brush our teeth,
workout everyday all the while forgetting
that these temporary mechanisms,
these compilations of pleasures and blood,
of bones and bruises,
of vessels and kisses are just hosts
for a party of angels and demons.
I am here to talk about
a boy that I loved.
The one I held in my hands
like a baby as he breathed like
a leaf sunburned by the June sun
he held on to me,
more than physically,
begging me to understand that we, as human beings
are not bodies with souls,
but we are instead souls
I have been featured here:|
I am now offering up the short novel I wrote in seven days in November 2013 by request only. I'm not publishing it online.
If you're interested, message me, and I'll send it to you. Lame ass blurb:
In the breaths of draught let in by his presence in the doorway, her nightdress rippled a song of midnight sea; the impact of his own breath like a ghost boat sliding across her body. She was a blank white queen, like a human chess piece, surrounded by black squares, and only words now could be written upon her. She could be anything, it seemed, but not enough.
What is there to do when you feel nothing?
And how do you deal with a life you suddenly find yourself in, answering the surprisingly difficult questions from your children about the nature of the world and living?
existing follows the story of a writer who desperately tries to write himself, and his family, to a better ending.
A chapter preview can be found here: