: About Me

It's a teaming vacation for us, I think. We have worked hard to create a greater good for all to see. A memo has been passed and it is not a joke. Love behind what is meant for me. Either sentence could be true, yet only one is.

Perhaps you can pick the truth: I was alienated by a funeral involving mutual friends.

Or: I once spent three weeks wondering if I had received a note from a woman or if I had dreamed it.

The trouble with the eager these days is how they seem to simple folk. Folk who since have written of many involving those two rumors. The terror of the unknown coupled with the luxury and comfort of today's western world have been turned into a strange apathy. It is a denial of all that is magical with the claim that it does not exist.

I think more people must only remember this existence. This state of consciousness is one that we are kept in for a long time. This does not mean there are no past lives. It just means you are yet to die. Those who do not stay in the world are sent elsewhere. I'm sure this is sorted on a piece-by-piece basis. Each death causing a new life somewhere, with that consciousness sent to that other reality. Like finding oddities near highways, these are the days of their lives.

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Ghosts

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The Story of Moleman: As I heard it, around a campfire in my youth. He sat in the pines waiting for the leaves to change. There was a park bench there, made from an old tree stump. He sat and touched his fingers together, aimlessly whittling away at his soul. A nearly empty pouch sat beside him on the far side of the old tree. A grey strap of wool held the pouch to his arm. He was hoping to come across a trader or an adventurer at these crossroads, but he found nothing. He told himself he was miles from anyone. He felt sure of that. He made a sign of a cross on his chest aimlessly making a...

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