MistakenMagic

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryLindsay MistakenMagic2214 years 5 months ago
StoryMY DEAR LORRAINE Updated. June 2011. How do I keep the reads 348 from 2009 Cavalcader914 years 5 months ago
StoryLove is... vidit.chopra514 years 5 months ago
StoryAll The Best vidit.chopra414 years 5 months ago
StoryThe God's Child vidit.chopra614 years 5 months ago
StoryLife, Death and Soul vidit.chopra614 years 5 months ago
StoryAddiction vidit.chopra214 years 5 months ago
StorySmile vidit.chopra214 years 5 months ago
StoryRain vidit.chopra514 years 5 months ago
StoryThe walk to remember vidit.chopra514 years 5 months ago
StoryThe Invisible Hand barryj1514 years 6 months ago
StoryTHE SPRING TIME OF LIFE skinner_jennifer3014 years 6 months ago
StoryDiary of a daughter who didn't get the part maggyvaneijk2214 years 6 months ago
StoryArtist's Impression Silver Spun Sand2614 years 6 months ago
StoryMere Dynamaso2814 years 6 months ago
Story'Goodbye' She Wrote Silver Spun Sand2414 years 6 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 14 rjnewlyn914 years 6 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 13 rjnewlyn914 years 6 months ago
StoryA Pregnant Pause luigi_pagano1014 years 6 months ago
StoryAngelina Silver Spun Sand2214 years 6 months ago
StoryFREE SPIRIT skinner_jennifer3614 years 6 months ago
StorySorry, I thought... shoe2114 years 6 months ago
StoryHeathcliff barryj11314 years 6 months ago
StoryLazy Perfect Sunday skinner_jennifer1214 years 6 months ago
StoryTime Moves On threeleafshamrock214 years 6 months ago

My stories

Flatliner

The green line makes Mountains on the monitor And that steady Beeping Pulses a lullaby. I grasp your hand like An anchor. Although I know your Wings ache to Spread Beneath dusty sheets.
Cherry

The Fortune Teller

In the playground We gathered around the fortune teller With his flapping paper mouth, Pinched between anxious fingers.

Indigo and Gold

And it’s just us. Locked in a turbulent tango Across an eclipsing ballroom To the giddy pipes of fate.

Queen of Hearts

Paris. August. Freeze frame. The People’s Princess fades into white light, Though she never quite reaches The end of the tunnel.

Under My Skin

The letters that spell out ‘I love you’ Pitch their tents In the heart-shaped hole Of his chest And sting like a cold shower.

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