Stories Characters

The spirit curse

I do not want to tell you about me,that would be too easy. I could tell you about my play and the change BUT that would not give you the information that you need. I do not want to speak, my biology means this is not easy for me. I must pull threads from other worlds and bring a chorus of vibrations to Earth, to yield the body that knows my soul, so instead I will tell you about the body that I chose to control. The body that let me take hold.  The body that ignites my soul. 

I killed her, the child that wandered past the mountaintop and into the sky. I killed her  with a quick slip of my knife and I let their body decompose into the ground. Her screams held a beautiful sound as she mewed into the stars, my combusting breaths, taking over her heart. Bloom fostered around her shell as she yelled into galaxies that we would eventually lead.   

She pleaded for me to let her go, to let her return home, to a place where she could be free, be human, what irony. No human has been free since EVE and I am a beast that wants to change this reality. She wandered to me, her body should have stayed at the tip of Earth but she longed for a hydration that we call the spirits curse. All humans want to be saved but few do the work that is needed every day. 

I whispered into her skin, her back bending to my call, 

“You are mine.”

 She shivered and pleaded. I repeated my longing. 

“You are mine.” she pleaded and begged – 

 “Is this how you treat a friend? Is this how you treat your death, hold some fortune before your end.” 

Her eyes crowded into an ocean and she silenced her tears into soft moans and I moved closer to her bone- hungry for her flesh. As I approached from behind, she whispered an intelligible sound and took a bite from the density of my dark clouds- my spirit lurching into a shadow that towered above us both.

  It was then I realized this child was mine and I was hers.  She had wandered to  me but I had called her from earth. Her scream vibrated into my ear and as it finished its last echo, I asked her what she feared and she whispered, losing the feeling of you near.  

I will not make this simple for you. I will not make this into something that can end. This is just the beginning and I am a beast that knows, you are hungry for what you can not control.

Characters Confessions Stories

Bad love

You know her name, she killed you last night. Took your blood and dragged you up the stairs to her lair. It was there she made you breathless. You liked knowing she could do this to you. You liked giving her control until you realized you never gave it to her. She took it. When she smiled at you across the room, you were helpless to do anything but smile back. Your skin tingles and it feels like a  snake wrapped around your stomach making its two heads bite slowly into your nipples, elongating your neck towards her teeth. You were hungry for change and she was full of a madness you could not explain. How could someone so beautiful want you? As soon as she walked in, she commanded the room. Now you were in her bed, breathless and starving for whatever she would feed you. Her lips made their lips  way down your chest. You only know brutal love and she is made of sharp knives. You felt helpless and sweet and she whispered, Tell me what you need? 

You wanted to say my breath. I want my breath. I want to feel held and loved. I want patient love, I want to feel at peace with those who desire me but instead you smile and kiss her back.  

She drags you up the stairs each night and each night you give her your life.

Confessions Poetry Stories


We used to run and skip to each other’s heartbeat. We made promises that we would never leave. It did not seem naive, how could we be, we had experienced what few knew- shame is what others give to you. We would never give that to each other. Monsters are hungry for young souls and we said we would be with each other until we turned old. 

Do you remember when I came into the world? I remember when you came into mine, when I realized that you were by my bedside each night. Comforting me with your light. 

How do you fly without wings? 

How do trees grow without roots? 

How do fish swim without water? 

I love you. I can not leave you. 

I never did, my body is just one part of me. 

My soul was always by your side. Did your ghosts cover them up- did your monsters make them hide? Did they lie and say I had left?  

You were my best friend. I could never leave you, not even if I tried. My monsters were loud, I wanted to silence them so I could hug you tight, so I could be what we promised each other in the middle of the night. 

Our heartbeats play on different beats. Mine is silent and filled with heat. 

Our promises are long forgotten.Your fear turned me to stone. I stood there as you told me to leave our childhood home. 

Could you love me- 


If we were friends I would believe you, but since you are my sister I know that the love you felt for me stopped when my body left you. 

Poetry Stories

A Child God meets a Temporal Seed. 

Child God

We are infatuated with you, you are sweet. We like the blood that runs to your cheeks when we tell you what we need. We know you want our  love but we can’t give such a thing, it would rip you into infinite fruits but you like that sensation- the allure of death. I refuse to share, I am fond of your temporal bones. You do not want this curse,to remember and feel everything, to sit idle while worlds disappear. You are a seed. A moment meant to please. 

You salivate and we lick away each drop of fear. To clear the path, to HERE. 

Temporal Seed

I can not see. There are too many open doors.  I scream.  I hear my change. Leaves gather and  echo into chambers of my heart. You told me that it was the size of my fist so I clench and bang them ruthlessly along the corridors of time.  I am driven insane. I feel the clarity of bloom. Is this what you feel? I am yours. I am yours. I am yours. I am yours. Open your door. I will wait. 

I am hungry for your call. 

Child God

You lay your head on our lap, in surrender and sweet submission. We let you move your limbed body in the crest of our knee, you are tender and supple, so we do not move.  We can crush you but we love you. This is how we know we are young, in the face of eternity. We are still humored by your temporality, still enchanted by your loneliness. You need our guidance, enmeshed by our touch. We listen to each beat of your heart, such a feeble thing. It does not sing without our pluck. It would not know what to do. We will not crush you. 

We  listen to your call, to your needs so we can control your temporal feast. We are hungry for the feeling of time. A twinkle in the night sky that surrounds the eternity of our minds. We blink and the crest of our knee envelopes you like the ocean, you fall into the abyss, your call is a whisper exploding into a silent scream. 

Finally you see what it means to love a child God like thee. We are hungry, mischievous and sweet and your life has fed only our knee. We do not remember your name but we anticipate and reminisce on the chase that brought you close. There are no closed doors; love opens them all.  

Confessions Poetry Stories


I see you are scared, just like me. Do you like your fear? I like mine, it helps me feel alive. It helps me know a few things. 

  1. You are human 
  2. You feel, I see it in your eyes. Puddles, Pools and Prisms of light. 
  3. You are sensitive but hide, with generous sight and careful intuition. 
  4. You have good intentions. 

How do we convince ourselves of love? 

I fall in love with ego, obsession, worship, alcaldes yet I always surrender to the truth. 

Ideas. Am I an idea to you? Or am I human too? How can anyone fall in love with a beast like me? 

You smile, it feels like it has  been a while, I never want it to disappear. You stay beside me and my ideas become clear. 

Love is similar to fear, they both possess but your love makes me overcome the fear that I can not wrestle or subside. My skin won’t let it fade and you are convinced by your side that I need to stay.  I stay there until I die and you remember the fear I had when I was not in your sight. 

Poetry Stories


It was a disaster. I do not know what it means to love. 

I fall in love with sensations, the tingling, touch. The want, the need, the infatuation to please, to surrender, to the next moment. I am what you expect, a caring soul, with no home to call their own. I love sensations, the feeling that one feeling could last forever, it is the poet in me and I do not try to hide this monstrosity. I am honest, I say it from the first moment we meet. I love the feeling of you, how you make me feel, how you feel, it is bloom. The sensation of you is fruit. I am hungry for all of you. 

I like to hide, like the seed of taste. It takes a long time to get inside.

 Most people fall in love with their reflection. I do not mind this- I am there too, a shadow of their blooming truth. It is a sweetness, I like to hold onto. I am what you expect, hungry to get into intellectual beds and emotional feasts that make vulnerability the appetizer and desire the dessert. There are always hungry people and I like to fulfil. Before they get inside, I whisper. I tell them, the sensation was true but now I want another fruit, they whisper, I love you and I feel horrible until I reach towards the new sensation bubbling, forcing its way into my heart. Bloom always starts.    

Characters Poetry Stories


I once knew a child, they were beautiful and strange and had a soul as old as time and a heart that was broken and mended by lights and shadows. Our  child held the spirit of the moon. Their heart was akin to an oak tree that lived on top of a mountain by the sea. Our child was not loved by those that lived, or by those who were visible to the naked eye but rather they were held and treasured by the unseen, by spirits that commanded belief. They were loved by infinity. They were loved by change. 

They would dance and scream and play games alongside the cliff- pushing their back into the wind- fueling their invisible wings that had once soared but now were memories that fluttered slowly to earth’s floor- giving them hope that one day they will fly once more.

One day the child turned to the sea  and whispered “Love is birth. Love is truth. Love is becoming. Love is  bloom. Love is arrival. Love is safe. Love does not need to be forever for it to last always.”  

At this moment, the child smiled at the tree and fell to their knees and their hearts were united once again. We all heard whispers and tales from the tree, its giggles and leaves fluttering playfully in the breeze. Our child’s eyes never stopped searching for  new roots and caressed the darkness of life in the seeds that landed by its side. Our child never stopped loving and neither should you, for what are we if not a wandering spirit hoping for bloom. 

Characters Confessions Poetry Stories Whatever Our Souls

Thank you for listening 

Who broke your heart? 

It happened a long time ago. When my child ran away from home. They ran towards milk and honey. I only know ash. It is not my fault, I spent too long in the valley of lost souls. I had only known despair, so I dreamt myself there- I could have chosen anywhere in the world but I chose a place as lonely and cold as the place I had always known. My mother did not know how to hold me although she tried. I was too young and too bitter to see that spirits feed on beliefs as much as they possess bodies. My possession was a cold one, I gave no fruit. 

I birthed her in the fire.  I tried to hold her close. Tried to make her feel safe but I drowned her, suffocated her wills and swallowed her needs with my own despair. Death took her slowly, her arms long enough to find her in my enveloping embrace. I have my coal and my ash and I have you, the color blue that reminds me that there are other feelings too. 

Characters Poetry Stories

Meditations on the Self

Meditation I. 

A tree set itself alight. A forest fire spread for miles around, some of the trees across the lake wondered why such a horrible thing would be done but the bird and leaves understood. Change is the only thing you can do, when people come daily to litter you.  

Meditation UI. 

Thoughtlessness killed the man. It was not the death he understood but it was a death he would remember. 

Meditation Self.

The child marched down the road- happy they had won the war. The enemy was himself. The refugees had fled to the mountain, never to return. The remaining villagers stood to attention, whenever the child opened his eyes- scared he would mistake the light as something that would blind, rather than guide.   

Characters Confessions Stories

The Meeting Place. 

In an undisclosed desert, dream world, a child meets an unknown being. The being speaks in a rhythmic tune that grows in speed as they lean closer to the child to inspect what they truly may be. With every word the spirit  speaks, with every inch they move,  the child grows no bigger than their thumb. In the darkness they both appear to be a candle and its wick. In the light they do not exist. 

Hello child. What do you want from me- do you wish to play. I like chaos. Are you ready for such things?  I make streams into oceans and plants into trees.  What do you need? I do not have children seeds, or baby plants, if you have come to me, you will grow, your limit will be unknown. 

The child nods. 

You have no voice it seems,or do you not wish to speak? Either way I am not bothered or pleased. If you are ready, we can begin. But first, I must know the fear you carry to me. Are you ready to shed? Are you ready to die, to become a tree for one night? 

The child nods. 

Of course, it will be longer than one night, but after the transformation, you will cease to remember anything but the wind and its unique blows.Those you love may come and visit but the majority of temporal souls do not have the will to persist,  to a place like this. In fact, how did you get here? You are close enough for me to kiss and yet you don’t seem to  be what you insist.  

The child smiles. 

Those who do arrive will be too afraid to taste your fruits, which makes them useless to you. 

The child giggles. 

You have a humor I see, older than you appear to be. I will ask you a question and I would like for you to use your voice. I want to hear you speak. How old are you, and how did you find me? 

The child smiles and picks up a stick and draws their age with big circles, marking the golden sand with a loose wrist. 

100- That can’t be, you seem no older than 15 and this speaks from your eyes, your body is no older than 9.    

The child sits down on the ground and begins to play a violin shaped sound from their chest, it sounds as if they broke through their ribs to play a tune that plucks on their own purple heart. A baritone beat begins slowly, it is deep and dark, the chaos of their own heartbeat is making its way into an ocean at their feet.

Their dream is screaming into a sound that is shaking the ground and calling the birds to bring a harmonious sweetness to the forest like symphony that this child plays.

The child is shaped like dust.  Their body is the colour of ash, the sound of them like a kaleidoscopic dream, a philosopher’s nightmare and a poet’s possibility. 

The spirit watches on in silence, delighted to see that finally they have a play partner that would not break easily. The child did not need to speak, in order to create. The spirit had enough words to make them create a portal or at minimum a chaotic gate of change.  This child had the ocean’s heat and they had come willingly. 

You can call me Cloud. 

The child giggled. 

 My real name is something no one speaks aloud. 

The child smiles, their teeth the only vision of their body.  All around them is a deep oceanic wave. The child and the spirit leave our dream place and came to a land much like yours, before they opened the chaos that you thought only lived behind mythic doors. 

Characters Stories

The girl and the stump: Tied to freedom.

I knew a child , great in all the ways you can imagine a girl to be, except they carried a huge shame. They wore it on their back which felt strange- since they were not very tall and strong and thus on some days it would grow beyond their back and over their head until it made them look like a gravedigger carrying the dead. 

Well our child knew one thing, to let go of this shame, they had to choose. Choose something they were not ready to see or comprehend easily. 

“ What do you need?” 

Well the child thought this was easy and said it loud and clear- but the shame did not disappear. Eventually our child grew weary and decided to let their shame shape itself, let it grow and yield itself with time, the child believed it had its own life, that it had its own will. 

The child knew their needs and she did try to follow them enthusiastically but she also knew her wants and often got them mixed up. She would often do, what many children choose, follow what someone else thought was right rather than their own individual light until one day she turned to her shame and said 

“You will never go away” 

The stump turned its face, into an easy and mischievous glare and said “Not until you realize that I am older than you- not until you see- that you do not need, what you want- as much I need to be tree, until you make the distinction, I will be something you carry.” 

The child stood still, engraved with the years. 

The stump’s mischievous glare was gone but the child never forgot the look in its eyes and how frightened she was to put it down. How she carried it till the end,too frightened to let it  grow and say “I know you were cut, I know that you were misplaced, years before I had a face and you were engraved,marked by hands belonging that were not your kin. You were a tree and I will let you grow into what you need because I know like me, you also want to be free.”  

Our stump never grew and our child always thought they knew what to do until their child inherited a stump too. 

Characters Stories

The rational man

How did you hurt yourself today? Did you violate the energy that you felt was misplaced? With all the things you thought you should be. Who should you be? I met a man once, he held a deep violence in his soul, it made him brittle until he broke- fell to the ground like ants spilling from their hiding place, he cut open his eyes and stared at the blinding light and told me with a severe tone that pain was the natural way of life. Look at the ants beneath his feet, he set fire to their home and they run and leave, if it was not him, it would be me. We all cut and hurt and we all kill. I looked down at him and wondered when this man would stop rationalising and begin to heal.