The Spark of Short: How Poetry and Lyrics Can Recharge Your Creativity
As a writer, I know the feeling of staring at a blank page, willing inspiration to strike. But what if I told you that some of the most potent doses of creative renewal can be found in the smallest of packages? Yes, I’m talking about the magic of short-form writing, including poetry and lyrics. These…
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Bridging Love and Afterlife: Firehouse Ghost III
Tonight. Vic shuddered. Am I ready? Will Liz be ready? He focused his entire consciousness on Liz. Her thought penetrated him: I love you so much, Vic. Part of me wants Jaku to kill my body so I can go with you. Vic’s expanded heart shrank into a small, sore lump. “You won’t be allowed…
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Whispered Connections: Firehouse Ghost II
Despair gripped Vic in a vise and whisked him to Jaku’s side. The murderer smirked as he polished the barrel of his .357. “Boom!” He mimicked the loud sound of the gun discharging. “I’m gonna waste that bitch.” He chuckled, imagining the terror on Liz’s face as he jammed the gun against her head and…
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Firehouse Ghost: Unveiling the Other Side
Vic Lazzarini’s ghost scowled at the short, fat-bellied fireman cringing in his jail cell. “Jaku, you sawed-off, lily-livered sneak!” Vic shouted. “Murderer!” He threw what would have been a bone-crunching punch if it hadn’t gone right through the punk’s head. Jaku’s hairy nostrils twitched, his pin-prick eyes darting around the jail cell stinking of urine…
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A Braided Essay: These Dreams of Love III
I Become – Part 3 Twelve years before I fell in love with Barry and a year to the day after Vic’s death on Valentine’s Day, 1985, I felt wrung out with grieving and despairing of ever finding the kind of love I’d found with Vic again. That morning, I awoke in the wee hours,…
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A Braided Essay: These Dreams of Love II
I Become – Part 2 After telling Sasha I would talk to my father, I was relieved when Mom said Dad didn’t want to talk to me. We didn’t know how to talk to each other adult to adult, only father to child, me being the child who wasn’t supposed to talk back. Leaving my…
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