When the Going Gets Tough… Ever feel like the walls are closing in on you? Like no matter what you do, nothing seems to be panning out or taking off? Have you ever sat at the keyboard or had pen and pad in hand, but finding the first words to start a sentence feels like […]
A crack of thunder and a rumble momentarily blur Erin Le’s vision as the air grows thick with oppressive heat and soot. The walls around them suddenly begin to break apart and crumble revealing hellish, lavalike liquid steaming and popping in the void spaces. Mike seems to stretch tall into the foyer’s vaulted ceiling and his voice grows loud and frightening.
A Leon Priest Tale by J.F. Pringle Chapter 1 Fast asleep on a quiet shift, a nightmare was just beginning to wrap me in its grip. Were it not for a sudden chill that woke me, I’m sure I would have kept sleeping. My eyes snapped open. Felt like someone was in the room with
By J.F. Pringle Clayton winced as he examined the wound on his ankle. Blood oozed out of the punctures and lacerations inflicted by razor-sharp fangs belonging to the mangy, black dog eight feet below him. The murderous thing growled and barked between occasionally leaping up and snapping its jaws just inches from Clayton’s legs. He
by J.F. Pringle Chapter 1 Gail enjoyed the cool breeze underneath the shade of a maple tree on the edge of Vanishing Forest. She was seated on a comfortable cushion of orange, red, and golden leaves that she had quickly gathered after she had been certain that no one had followed her. Taking a break
by J.F. Pringle Tough thumb skin scratches against the imperfections of that damn glass.Scroll up. Scroll down. Feels the same.But tough skin is wanting as the display of words changes.Exchanges of hatred.Imperfect people.Feeling isolated, naked. What am I seeking as I read and reread?I guess I hope the words change.To sweet things. Comfort things. Love
by J.F. Pringle It’s like flickering light,In a dark, empty room,The walls are plain,Nothingness illum’ned. I reach for what I feel,Reaching for me,And I find my arms,Extended towards indifference. A hollow place,In my chest,Filled with hopes.Filled with nothingness. The love I give,Is vigorous and true.The effort I make,Unreciprocated by you.
by J.F. Pringle Silken robe passes over supple breast,And gracefully falls to endless pit.Virgin made new as ecstasies unfold.Like garment never to be worn the same,So, visage fell from innocence grown cold. Flynt paths score soft feet,The way made red with heart’s bleeding wounds.Pain, now, on which to reflect; memories that vary.Nursery stories of love’s
by J.F. Pringle She tried to ask,They shut her up.Questions are for the apostate. Now positioned to hear things clearly,A tender heart is best for listening.Adoration, a quiet assembly. The noise of silence broke her. His voice at the center.It’s Me again, He said.Her purpose in a letter. One day she’ll know,Until then, these things
by J.F. Pringle Sweet nectar,Just a sip.Bitter wine,Drink deep—to the dregs. No, don’t pinch your nose.Taste that shit. It’ll put hair on your chest—Like weavings of Kevlar.Makes a great blanket,To keep your lonely ass warm when the chill comes. And it will come—Like a good lover, over and over.And it will ravage you—Like the lover