Drip… The monotonous sound of a leaky faucet. Drip… Of rain in a downspout. Drip… Of blood falling from the opening of a fresh wound. Drip… “Counting down the blood in my hourglass. Drip by,” Drip… “How else would I keep time?” Drip… “Born backwards,” Drip… “Living to die.” Drip… “How else would you measure a year in my life?”
It's funny how life and timing play out when it comes to your dreams. Take me for instance, I wanted to be a ballerina and tell stories through the fluidity of my movements, without the need of words, to convey meaning with my body, however, we didn't have the money growing up, so I choreographed... Continue Reading →
Running, running, running… The night is pitch, a blanket of darkness that engulfs the landscape and blinds those who dare to tread. Don’t go out after dark they say for even that which is known becomes strange. They want to scare us, to keep us away, but away from what? The darkness cannot hurt you... Continue Reading →
Glory Fiction 