Simplistic-Fool

I’ve only seen my dad cry a handful of times, but each time it tore at my heart strings. The first time I remember him crying, it was Christmas morning and I was nine. That summer, my parents had gotten a divorce, and my dad was hard pressed for cash ever since.  We (me, my dad, my little brother and sister) had lived with my grandmother for a few months before dad decided to buy my aunt’s old trailer just up the drive way. It wasn’t the best house; the navy blue siding was falling off and the burnt orange carpeting was so old the floor just felt like fuzzy, shag cement. The doors squeaked, and there were holes in the ceili

"Why am I here?" A little voice asked the empty room that stretched before her. The furniture had been removed long ago, most pieces sold to the highest bidder, and the signs of life that turned the house into a home left nails in the walls and faded patches of paint behind. Dust caked the walls and hardwood flooring, as well as any other surface it could cling too. Ghosts of regret, loneliness and pain lingered, but the occasional trilling laugh shot through the bleakness. "You're here because you hate yourself." A voice whispered in her ear just as her eyes caught a glimpse of long silver hair whip around the corner, while booted feet prod

Once upon a time, there was this girl, lost and alone but making it through with a smile on her face and a pep in her step. She was sweet, albeit too sweet for her own good at times, and cared for people when no one else did. There was always something good and pure in people, even by the smallest amount; that's what she told herself. But that was probably before she ever got hurt. -- Once upon a time, there was this boy, just as lost and alone as the girl, but making it through in his own way. He was quiet, but strong; caring, but not overt about it; warm, but refusing to portray as much. He didn't believe there was a goodness in everyone

It started out with an idea. A 'what if'. Scientists are like that. They balance the 'what if's and possibilities with reality to come up with ideas and hypothesis that they soon test. That's how we came to be. Not you, reading this possibly, but how I, my brothers and sisters, my son came to be. Scientists around the country were often contracted during the war to aid those already employed by the Government… Well, wars, to come up with theories, possibilities, ideas and ways to infiltrate other countries, nations… and our own country. It might sound ludicrous, the Government infiltrating its own home land, but they did. And more

The stationary desk sits in the corner of a room near a small bed with a cup of pens and a single framed sketch of a sleeping girl decorating its top. There in the top drawer rests piles and piles of papers, all penned to the same person, all penned by the same person. The ink is so old that some of the letters have faded, and some of the papers are damaged by water, only a few are legible. Hello my gorgeously handsome hero, I know it's only been a day since I've seen you, but it feels like it's been a year. When I woke this morning, I felt like I had lost everything. My heart burns with pain, as if your leaving was a small nick brought

He is Clark Kent. I am Lois Lane. His memories are Kryptonite. My ability to be a hero stops at my imagination. There are times I imagine I rush forward, capable of wielding a weapon and combat his troubles, his enemies… his heart. I want to rescue him from him and everything that surrounds him, but if anything, I'm a burden and not a solution. I want to save him, to pull him away from everything and let him be happy, but his desire resides in revenge, and my desire to keep him safe doesn't allow him to do what it is he needs to do. I'm counterproductive. I'm a nuisance and a hindrance. I had to tell him something I would have never

Hurricane season for the Cove is a simple thing; the storms come, demolishes everything and leaves us stranded while we pick up the pieces. Sure, people die and families become separated during nature's fit of rage, but no one really ever expects for those misfortunate people to be them. But that's the problem with storms, and low expectations- they always seem to prove you wrong. Daniel was my little brother, two years younger than me to be exact, you wouldn't be able to tell physically, but mentally, we weren't on the same bar. He looked exactly like me, and we got the complimented "Are ya'll twins?" How is this complimenting? Simple: Dani

"Once upon a time, there as a princess, and this princess was unhappy…" "Why was she unhappy, mommy?" "She was unhappy because her mother and father were mean rulers. You see, they ruled separate kingdoms,  and they made sure that their loyal subjects stayed loyal by making them scared all the time. There was always new rules to abide by, and they demanded so much from the princess, that she couldn't take it and got sick." "She got sick? How'd she get sick?" "She was always worried that she wasn't doing the right thing, and the worry caused her stomach to hurt all the time. She had went to the kingdom's doctor a lot for the pain." "