One Page Stories

Like two eyes painfully patiently watching and observing, awaiting your move the judging pair of judging eyes. It harrows and shines, with the lights. You don’t get to see sometimes underneath his tremble soul capturing eyes so tender

"Why in the hell am I doing this again?" At most, she would be a memo on the cover smeared by the upcoming seasons.

Unfinished. A beautiful saying overheard in the streets of Brooklyn.

Within the green outskirts was a yellow mustard meadow paradise. One day between the four-leaf clovers appeared a sole footprint. There was no one to ask why or who left it there. The little green oasis certainly knew but didn't hum. Another day came with another step from

There was a treasure on the street that no one could see with barren eyes everyone was a passer-by. The pirate chest expelled and yelled as much as an inanimate object can. Unsuccessful in its taunting, with no takers to the allure of its booty, the chest started rotting. Below

The walls pulsated with shedding veins and tendons. Ancient paint falls with every beat dusting the eternal audience frozen in awe. With every inhale the room shook. On exhale the chipped-off marble and particles hurried up through the wide-open arch, cutting up anything on the way out. The perfect stone

One of my favourite observation practices is to take common objects and personify the world from their perspective. The green army stood its ground as raindrops as big as an individual bombarded the first line. One by one the ranks took the hit and got back up like nothing happened.

"What do you do when the inspiration doesn't come?" "I write." "Write what?" "Anything really. Whatever is on my mind, is happening, might, and will happen." "So like you would write about this conversation." "Yeah. For example.

Traffic cones beaten by the storm yelled out in danger "Do not come! Do not come!" The entrance to the village once safe is now permanently scarred with a burned black rubber. Down the cliff, lightning lit up the unfulfilled chase of the two lovers. If only... if

On the fragility of the AI-bot experience. MON 8:00 I wish you an absolutely fantastic day! MON 8:04 Who's this? MON 8:04 Kimberly. MON 8:10 I don't know any Kimberly. MON 8:11 We've never met. But that doesn'