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Freud and Broken Christmas TreesShe spilled the news on me before I even had the chance to react. And what would you even say to that, anyways? I'm sorry? Geez, that sucks? How's it feel to be an only child now? No. Never. You don't say that kind of stuff. You will never be able to find the words to say until it happens to you, too. God forbid.
And she just kind of stared at me. That look was piercing, haunting. It froze my tendons and turned my thoughts to dust. I was a nothing, I was worse than the dirt under her shoes. Because I couldn't solve anything. Because I couldn't make it better. Because I was just as helpless as she was, and she hated me for it.
The feeling wasn't a red, or a black. It wasn't any colour I could really name, but it wasn't a gray either. It was a block of things, a puzzle, the outline of a crumpled soda can. Edges poking inside to spill the remains out through the tiny pinpricks, the fractures in the metal. I could go on and on into metaphors but she – I don't have words to describe her eye
Odyssea AbstititWhen the blue jacaranda mocked the sky
Sleep bound was she, the drowsy brilliance
below the whispering branch.
Her Caño Cristales hair,
strewn amongst wild blue and green;
Partially over her wanderer, like a warm
crash of wave.
"Your laurel tells of death
but I still need you."
And he,understanding, wept.
"Your garland speaks of the flowers, streams
and the meadows which is our home."
"Here, is where I still love you
this place, where arms renounce arms
with care, warmth and adoration."
"My arms tangle in shadows, and
my mind only imagines; night falls
on my face within the whirlpool."
(She in a dream)
"Kalypso; she cannot keep you.
Our fire was kindled
in the glorious Springtime,
and stays in all the places in
which we played. Wherein,
you loved me and I you.
The flames stay, waiting,
in the marital bed that you made."
-Once more, awake from the immensity-
The depths they spake in choirs
The Final PunishmentNo thoughts could enter his mind, but if he could wish for something, it would be for nothing at all. There was no longer any desire in his heart, for at last it's flame had dissolved in streams of blood it had ignored. The monster inside him was gone, as too himself.
Their grip tighten around his wrist, and they pulled him forward deeper against the stone pavement. He could feel the glares of the imperial guard intense with hatred run across his browned bare back and almost singe his white speckled wings to pieces. Their powder white uniform were purelessly clean, the buttons reflecting the high noon sun also evilly.
Thrown onto the silver platform, guards surrounded his busily clicking chains around his feet, hands, and finally his neck. Ropes rubbed angrily against his feathers, and a few fell to the ground sparingly. He looked up into the face of his undiscovered equal.
People of White called him their steel hero; People of Red called him the brutal monster. His eyes were black as
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My name is Kate, and I'm a writer.
I'm a native New Yorker, but I moved to Washington, DC, and got a BA in English and Creative Writing from The George Washington University in 2013. I now live and work full-time as an editor in Arlington, VA. In between fixing people's grammar, I write short stories.
I have a lot of varied experience in being published and working in publishing, so if you have any questions about how to get published or how to work in the industry, feel free to send me a note!