Photo Stories

Miranda’s knees were locked and there was a slight tremble in her legs. Despite the cool weather, she felt sweat break out onto her back the moment they stepped into the clearing. The cold snap had settled in a few days ago. Fall was coming. This time of year seemed to ignite a sense of adventure in the kids in her neighborhood. Herself included. How else could she explain standing at the edge of Evergreen Woods, or as th...

Clinging onto faded photographs Rigid poses that were choreographed Blurred bodies and echoed laughs Locked in stasis for a time and a half A mirror to glance into the past Sparking memories specific and vast Faces of Youth gone too fast Fleeting moments were never meant to last A tool invented allows us to remember Sunsoaked summers and chilled Decembers Waves of joy and hearts in embers A time conserved together Hollowe...

I’ve walked in darkness my whole life. Each day I wake up and wonder if today is the day I will slip away into the darkness – then resolve, like an alcoholic, that I will hold out for just one more day. Death is my addiction, and I work to hold it off every day. People talk casually about being depressed. Therapists correct that and say rather that it is living with depression. Churchill, who struggled with depression mos...

Your face is captured like a paintingHanging upon my wallTo admire the true beauty you possessThat stole my beating heartEach vivid color seeps into othersCreating a new design of wondrous expressionBrushstrokes that wash across your soft pink skinEyes that draw you in, no matter where you standThose sweet ruby lips so finely drawnGlistening of the soft kisses we once enjoyedThose strands of long hair strung across your f...

An image captured,Droplets enraptured,Within a crystal glimmer. Refracted lights shimmer,Holding for just a moment,Much more than a quotient. Creatures encapsulated,Not moving nor animated,Held frozen cryogenically. Invisible to a wandering eye,From a picture one can spy,The illustrations drawn within. Water drops freezing skin on skin,Prisoners inside an icicle's confine,Many illuminations brightly shine. Is it only me?...

The first time I ever asked my Gran what my mum was like, she smiled at me and lifted me into her lap. I was still small then, so I nestled comfortably against her ample belly, waiting excitedly as she drew out a battered, red, leather covered book seemingly from out of nowhere. Somehow, she always had it with her. Even now, much older and possessing the knowledge adulthood seems to bring to a person, I believe that there...