She was a very, very silly person who married a very nice man.
The two of them, eventually, made the woman who would be my mother.
She was a very nice person who married a very nice man and had a very nice daughter who (if I may) had a very nice son.
She’s been dead for over a year now.
And I miss her. I miss her very much.
The fact that I will never see my grandmother again hurts me.
It literally hurts me. I feel this…pain inside my chest when I think about how she and I will never hug again or make silly jokes. She was a silly person after all.
But what hurts me more than that is seeing my mother’s face when she remember
I’m not scared of black men or white men
Or right men or wrong men
I’m not scared of that burly guy or the one who always sits alone in the corner
I’m not afraid of those men
I’m afraid of straight men
Their heteronormativity makes me uneasy
It makes me walk to my car alone at night with my keys squeezed between my fingers
Like Wolverine if he were afraid of the dark
Or the things that walk there spouting “bro”
They make me afraid of my own hands and weak wrists
Of my hands and his hands and they make us keep them at our sides
When we just want to walk and be free and freely hold our hands
Hand in hand
A week after her not-date with Vera, Lucy Harker stepped out of bed onto the cold hardwood of her townhouse and immediately fell onto her knees. She panted for a moment, grasping her head because it was spinning. She had felt so weak, so light headed the last few days. It was almost like her strength had been draining while she slept.
She shambled into the bathroom and threw some cold water onto her face, hoping it would invigorate her as sleep had not, and was appalled at what she saw. Her face was so pale, almost anemic. The circles under her eyes had been steadily increasing in circumference every day, and there was practic
“Oof!” the red-haired woman said with an air of exhaustion as she plopped down on the bench, making it shake. The young woman reading was startled out of her young adult book by the sudden tremor and he eyes flashed to the stranger sitting next to her.
“Oh, sorry about that. I’ve been on my feet all day and this is the first time I’ve got to sit down.” Her eyes twinkled green as she made eye contact.
”It’s...ok” The young woman stammered before trying to return to her book. But for some reason, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she felt inclined to talk
“Here ya’ go Raven, and when you lock up tonight be sure to double check all the doors. Since that church fire the other day the boss has been paranoid about arsonist.”
“Really?” Maven said as she took the set of keys from the pudgy man in the unfortunate looking suit. “Why would anyone care enough to burn this place down? It’s just a regular old office building.”
The pudgy man shrugged.
“I don’t know. I think it’s bull shit, but he’s up for promotion to corporate and wants to crack the whip a little I guess. Feh.” He rolled his eyes
One does not understand by MarcoDelMarco, literature
Literature
One does not understand
One does not understand, fully, what death is until one has felt it. Yes, from a young age we “know” what death is, but we do not know death. At least, hopefully we don’t. I was largely…not academic per se, but…theoretical. I knew people all over the world were dying all the time from this and that and that this was very sad but true. I knew it, but I didn’t feel it. And that’s what really matters. It’s how it feels, how the lose hits you slowly over and over again like waves crushing you against the rocks. The world is not the same as it was and it never can be again because a person
“What are you going to do next? Flick Gatorade at me?”
The vampire looked at her now trembling advisory, the priest who had been hunting her these many months. There were no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. Well, there was one “butt.” His, and dat ass was soon to be grass.
The maven of the night brushed the few flecks of so called “holy” liquid off of her cheek, and smiled at the man she had penned to the floor of his own church as it burned around them. It was funny, she thought, if he hadn’t been so caught up in catching her she wouldn’t have decided to
You're going to laugh, you're by MarcoDelMarco, literature
Literature
You're going to laugh, you're
You're going to laugh, you're going to die. You're going to sneeze you're going to cry.
You will fart and you will pee, life if short and temporary.
Fun and friends, being pissed and being kind. It’s all a matter of time.
It’s going to all happen just wait and see, same for you and same for me.