Blog
Once, I was a prisoner of pages. Weak and malnourished, I lived in a dream-like world meant to contain me, telling me everything I thought I knew was right. But when that prison shattered, when I crept into the blazing sun of truth in my nakedness, I found the horrors that had compelled my years of torture. They were everywhere. They still are, whispering as I write these words. Can you hear them? Of course you do. You just don’t realize they’re speaking with your own voice.
PART 5
Text: “Hey hun, hope you’re doing alright. Just wanted to let you know, Mikey’s cough got a lot...
PART FOUR
Emptiness. That’s me.
I’m a shuffling ball of nothingness, void of feeling in my arms and legs....
PART 3
“Are you seeing this?” Sarah says from the other side of my phone’s receiver.
“Holy shit,” I mutter,...
PART 2
I rush toward the restroom, passing by the halls, orderlies, and doors full of patients. My stomach...
PART ONE
The doors are heavier than I remember. My arms strain against them; they bar my passage, but...
Blog post #1: Welcome to The Damned Scribe
Welcome to The Damned Scribe
Ah, dear reader, you have finally...