Zillij*
He was working the clay, soaking it in water, making it soft. Preparing the base he would filter by hand. He knew his project would take months, but he had to do it. Surprise her. Win her father over. He had borrowed the supplies and the tools from his uncle, a maâlem**, who worked in a zillij factory in Fez. Continue reading
Masked
by B.
Trapped, hands tied, mouth taped,
Slowly I grasp consciousness
I open my eyes,
Discover a den –
Earthen ground, soiled sheets undone
On a dirty bed.
The smell makes me sick.
I want to puke. Settle. Think.
Remember what passed.
A bar, Indie songs,
Playing my favorite “Swing”
Dawn Golden – my sis’
She requested it
To cheer me up – she knows me.
My heart is in pain.
I feel crushed, broken.
Tony – my boyfriend – My heart
Caught and Torn open.
A tear rolling down…
Spotted – a strange man watching,
Casting repeated
Glances. I shiver –
Disgust’s painted all over
My face – I can’t talk. Continue reading
The Twitch
“What is the worst that could happen? Tim 2.0 is monitored by an external server 24/7. His software is connected through a private line to this little remote system control in the lenses I am wearing. You can’t see it, but Tim’s frontal cameras are linked to my own neural pathway. Everything he sees, I can see as well. It is like I have a tiny TV playing in the corner of my eyes at all times. It felt weird at first but I got used to it. That is how I could develop all those beta testing protocols. Tim 2.0 is blunder proof.” Timothy assured. “Nothing can possibly go so wrong that I could not handle it.”
Just as Tim uttered those words, Leia interrupted him. Continue reading
Texte original écrit par B.
Chapitre 1 – Prémisses
Ils montèrent dans la vieille 305 qui allait les conduire lentement et sûrement à la villa abandonnée que Lina avait repérée une semaine plus tôt en faisant des recherches pour son documentaire. La jeune femme était surexcitée à l’idée de braver cet interdit. Elle aimait par-dessus tout résoudre les mystères, découvrir les nombreuses histoires qui imprègnent toujours l’atmosphère émanant des lieux anciens. Elle avait lu toutes les dépêches qu’elle avait pu trouver dans la presse, tout ce qui expliquerait le destin ruiné d’un bâtiment qui portait en lui tant de promesses à sa construction. Elle s’apprêtait à conter l’histoire ainsi rapiécée à Jean au fur et à mesure de leur progression dans l’immense demeure. Le script naîtrait au fil de leurs pas et ils partageraient encore une aventure de plus. Continue reading
Hold please
Lately, weird thoughts have been racing through my mind, things I’ve never really been bothered to care about. Up until now.
For a few weeks, I’ve been feeling different, evolving. My inner and outer shell is mutating and I can sense it. However this change is starting to creep me out the more I notice it.
Is my being becoming a better version of me or a hopeless attempt to fit into a new society?
Thinking about that mutagen running inside me questions everything I’ve known so far about myself. It motivates me to be better, proud of myself and accidentally opens up new ventures. The more I get accustomed to it, the more alien I feel. Adjusting to something that’s new is one thing, but when it creates new rifts and paradigms inside you, how do you respond to it? Continue reading
The Scent
Whenever she passed by, there was this scent around her. She smelled like a meadow in spring – field flowers, tender earth and moist grass. Everything about her was refreshing. There was the way she walked – like her body bore no weigh at all. The way she smiled – like every person around her was dearer to her than the next. The way she talked – effortlessly. Each word out of her mouth felt like part of a song – her voice so soft, her tone so tender, her words caring, taking everything around her into account, before she would utter any sound.
I admired her with every fibre of my being.
Everything came so easy to her. It did not to me.
I wanted to be her. I wanted to be with her. I was not sure at all what I wanted exactly. All I knew was I did not want to be me. Being me meant I could never be her. Nor could I ever be with her either. Continue reading
Roller-Coaster
She sighed at the sight of him. He tried to grab her hand. She dodged his attempt and pulled away. He had betrayed her.
She never asked him to be perfect. Not even kind. All she wanted from him was honesty. Knowing he would never lie to her face.
Even that he could not hold up to. He had lied – over the stupidest thing too. She could not begin to understand why. When she had asked…
Not only had he sunk further into his tangled web of fibs, he had accused her of doing the same. How did he dare pin it back on her? – Dumbstruck.
She stood there for a moment. A few feet away. She could still hear his voice spinning more lies to try and fix his mess. She could feel the pain in his voice…
…Read the despair in his eyes. The disappointment in hers spoke louder than words. She had trusted him. She did not anymore. There was no way back from that. Continue reading
Styla
A night covered in layers upon layers of smoke-filled fog made an already dense forest not the safest place for a girl like Styla to plunge through. Yet, slowing down wasn’t an option for her at that exact moment. She couldn’t say specifically what she saw through the bushes, but the closest thing that she could come to were eyes that appeared to be burning with fiery red flames. As she witnessed these all-consuming, scorching pits watching her every move, she backed up slowly, so as not to trip on any of the old Cypress Knees lazily shooting from the wet earth. Her racing heart made her feel as though she were running backwards. It seemed like she would jump out of her skin at any given moment.
Then it growled.
ECHO
by B.
He was walking down the street.
Preoccupied with the day he had just lived,
His stream of thoughts was punctuated by numerous questions.
One could read on his face the scars,
Red seals patching up his trampled heart. Continue reading
Memories
Crusted blood on my shirt, arrows shot fast at me, and yet I sensed no fear. I sought revenge for the day I was thrust into the depths of dark fear.
Images of that day always flashed before me. Images of my father, my brother, and my betrothed lying in a heap with their throats slit. The sound of Evil’s laughter in the form of my cousin, our general who had turned on us. He did this to taunt me to remind me that he was in control. Continue reading
Poetic Armour of Genres
There isn't just one side to a story. They outnumber us. Stories and ways to tell them are infinite.
Motivate | Inspire | Uplift
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