A piece dedicated to @lydiark , one of my most dedicated supporters, inspired by her “Scar near my spine”.
Allegory: open for various interpretations, beside the literary, autobiographical meaning it ...
Genre: Fiction |<br/>The trick of it is simply that Lee is never Lee.<br/><br/>(Taken from something else I've been working on, with minor tweaks and name changes.)
A piano player wallowing in his own self pity when someone asks for a strange request for him to play. Created using a story prompt book that needed to include the following words: carnival, sprained...
When I was a little boy I had a toy pterodactyl, I hung it from the ceiling on a string and it watched over me as I slept. One day it went missing, it wasn't on the hanging above my bed anymore, I tur...
In the words of Jean Racine. "Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel. " Where am I getting at, you may ask yourself at this precise moment as you read my caffeine-induced ram...
If only I could see the light surrounding me, the essence of a tree, the wisdom of the wind. If only I could find the thread that never binds, the dream that never dies, the whispers of the field.
A piece dedicated to @lydiark , one of my most dedicated supporters, inspired by her “Scar near my spine”.
Allegory: open for various interpretations, beside the literary, autobiographical meaning it ...
Genre: Fiction |<br/>The trick of it is simply that Lee is never Lee.<br/><br/>(Taken from something else I've been working on, with minor tweaks and name changes.)
A piano player wallowing in his own self pity when someone asks for a strange request for him to play. Created using a story prompt book that needed to include the following words: carnival, sprained...
When I was a little boy I had a toy pterodactyl, I hung it from the ceiling on a string and it watched over me as I slept. One day it went missing, it wasn't on the hanging above my bed anymore, I tur...
In the words of Jean Racine. "Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel. " Where am I getting at, you may ask yourself at this precise moment as you read my caffeine-induced ram...
If only I could see the light surrounding me, the essence of a tree, the wisdom of the wind. If only I could find the thread that never binds, the dream that never dies, the whispers of the field.