stellasupernova's profile

I ignore the battery acid building up in my arm and ease the final screw out of the weathered piling. It falls down into the darkness and lands somewhere ten feet below me in the damp, cold sand. All I hear is the sound of the ocean roaring and crashing against the shore a mere fifty yards behind me. That and the blood screaming through the veins in my ears. I pry the “This Town Is Tsunami Ready” sign from the wood, Despite its resistance, the sign is mine. Pleased, I pocket my tools, wrap m...

I can hear the train- it's tinny whine signaling the dregs of town it's passing. The air is heavy, hot, humid, the last hurrah of September, the last of the summer nights. Soon the trees, once lush and full of life, will become bare, brittle and grey, snapping at a second glance. I toss again in my bed, exhausted but unwilling to let myself sleep, to let myself be happy. The sheets are hot and I kick them off again with a heavy sigh. I can play this game for hours. I watch the fan slowly spin...

As I lay here trying to will my body to sleep I am suddenly aware of the monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall across the room. Why did I ever think that was a worth-while addition to the décor? All it does is mock me, laugh at my pain, the incessant pulse I subconsciously count in between trains of thought. I only seem to notice it then, the limbo when my brain stops to catch it’s breath in the dead of night. 3:05 and 31, 32, 33, 34.…… I close my eyes and involuntarily grind my teeth,...

Summertime watermelon often draw plump, lazy Flies And the seeds dribble down your cheek under azure, blue Skies Sipping cool lemonade under a shade tree often draw long, soft Sighs Watching slow fluffy mounds glide as the winter wheat Dies Hazily one’s mind travels back to poignant family Ties As a tear rolls down a cheek, because the only questions are Whys? The moon is in the sky and the moon really Tries But night time won’t come, as she sits here and Cries In fact it won’t come till she ...

Scanning the trunk one last time, I let it fall with a thud, careful to keep my fingers out of the way. That would be a great start to my journey: a trip to the emergency room to reattach my thumb. As far as I can tell, everything is packed snuggly in my car. My bags looked as excited as I feel, I could almost see them quivering in anticipation of the Great Unknown. I look up, squinting in the morning sun, and see my family lined up in the quintessential family-album pose, minus me. Dad has h...