Beeme

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryOur Eulogy MaggieG1214 years 11 months ago
StoryPortrait Sikander714 years 11 months ago
StoryYour Violet Wind JoseHdz314 years 11 months ago
StoryDust Bowl Dance awsamy214 years 11 months ago
StoryPeter Pan hits maturity awsamy714 years 11 months ago
StoryDiary of a broken man (part one) awsamy814 years 11 months ago
StoryDiary of a broken man (part two, A Life Revoked) awsamy214 years 11 months ago
StoryThis Serpent Tongue Cannot Be Colonized JoseHdz2314 years 11 months ago
StoryA Prayer Surmise114 years 11 months ago
StoryTorn awsamy614 years 11 months ago
StoryNevaeh maggyvaneijk1714 years 11 months ago
StoryThe White House pledge awsamy214 years 11 months ago
StorySwimming Beeme1314 years 11 months ago
StoryRogue Embraces awsamy314 years 11 months ago
StoryQuietly sinking Beeme714 years 11 months ago
StoryThis is not a love letter Beeme514 years 11 months ago
StoryIntervention Beeme414 years 11 months ago
StorySpinning Beeme614 years 12 months ago
StoryA Settlers Trail Richard L. Prov...915 years 6 hours ago
StoryIP Beeme415 years 17 hours ago
StoryPromises Beeme215 years 1 day ago
StoryOranges and Lemons... Silver Spun Sand1415 years 6 days ago
StoryInvention Beeme615 years 6 days ago
StoryEnough Beeme615 years 6 days ago
StoryWind Chimes in North America MistakenMagic4315 years 1 week ago

My stories

Cherry

Today I am not eighteen

I am not a eighteen year old girl, slipping into tights which elongate my legs. Placing my hair into a silky bouquet sensing his eyes wash over me like breath;
Cherry

Photosynthesis- blinded by light

My uncle’s fighting today, the air in the living room is un-breathable. I study my nan’s antique vases, watch her tired hands rearrange flower heads. She is so happy that they are alive;

Cleanse

If you’d told me five years ago that today I’d still have these feelings. Shifting in my bones like memory, and that a sense of loss would stain my cutlery with fingerprints every night.
Cherry

We think better

There is only a short distance before it is all black; someone has taken a marker and scribbled through the axis of my body; I tell myself that it doesn’t matter that it is you
Cherry

Freedom

Houses are framed with dust, like ivory along dormant windows- sits squatting in the horizon. Blinking like a golden Buddha’s head rippling in the sun.

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