Sometimes there isn't a title for a story. The words just flow like the sound of a brook in a wood no one knows of, until an author describes how the shift of the gentle breeze allows soft rays to caress the water to life. Then the sounds of the woods come to life before … Continue reading Sometimes There Isn’t A Title For A Story
Poetry
Running Up That Hill
The tap of keys is the music I leave, pushing forward, do you want to know what I feel? Want to hear about the deal I made? So that the smooth taps don't hurt me, only the words that bleed through the torn skin of my finger tips. There it is, the hatred, for the … Continue reading Running Up That Hill
Returning Home
I had three years of sunlight, years of it got better, and I was free from the place I had begun to believe would always be where I should be. I'm walking a familiar path overgrown as it always was, and the icy breeze moves the leaves every so slightly, but the sun always caught … Continue reading Returning Home
I Still Exist
I used to know you, the look in your eyes. You looked strong, like an angel that saw too much for words. So, instead I cried, at the beauty in those grey eyes. The world never so bright. I know you were here. I feel the shadow of you, ghosting through my veins. Your voice firm, … Continue reading I Still Exist
Faith Taryn Davies 