Shancia Speaks: Short Stories Superb!

Judas sat still, with an unforgiving chockehold threatening the air in his lungs as the news of his misgivings were announced by the grim reaper. She relished his exposure and loved that it was at the sting of the poison in her hands. Suffocation intended, no pun. The irresponsibility of the actions of Judas would sever bonds with no hope of repair. Something leaked.....which cause Judas to swell with anxiety and the drippity drop of regret. He would soon learn that a mouth kept shut prevents wounds that can easily bleed incessantly.  In the middle of the "trial of Alice", the mad hatters were jeering all around, pointing fingers and grinning happily, that it was him, not them. All hail the deceiver, the first and only one in the world to be peeled off his veil of "which side should I take?" What a cruel way to be skinned, huh?......straight from the flesh in the presence of the crowd, with tense tendons tarnished by treacherous telltale. Judas would learn today. Si...

We dare to make plans, yet we do not expect God to laugh. That is exactly the jab that Emma feels sitting alone, on yet another dreary Sunday night. Stuck in a labyrinth, surrounded by dull, grass hedges, full of thorns and absolutely opaque.....the way out seems catastrophic. She remembers her giddy professions; how eager she was to escape routine and unwind but instead she receives a slap from reality that causes her to sulk deeper into the squelchy fabric of the chair.  This time she discovers what "in an instant" means. This time, she is forced to swallow that our plans are not friends with us, that they can leave us at any time, because they serve a more powerful master, whose name is unpredictability. This time, she is shoved into a battle of hope versus reality and she chokes in tears at the realization that reality will always beat the persistence out of hope, each and every time. Emma is desperate to flee the enclosure of her mind but each time she lunges forward, sh...

There is one that we will always love despite having walked over tumultuous bridges with oceans of fire to swim in at the end. A recurring theme of "what if's" and hopelessness and what we shall never again inherit, clouds the mind's judgment and creates a haze around our world, one that blinds us. Foggy!! It is, therefore, time, for our minds to come to the battlefield and conquer the matter at hand. The mind must rise over the matter! Pierce the memories with your sharp stake of "I never deserved this." Slap the hand of manipulation and declare, "I know my worth." Burn the photographs with the oil of bravery and forwardness as you whisper, "I control my destiny." Watch them burn and smile, as the flames release the toxicity that made your mind fragile, causing you to forget your power and haphazardly give it to another. Relinquish the desires, quell the scent that has caused you to follow blindly and lose yourself in a forest of insecur...

 I long to go back, tear amidst the heavy shadows, to hold the hand of the child stuck in a pit of oblivion. I long to grab her, and hold her, embrace her with soothing whispers of "you'll be fine." She is still standing there, all the while I grew, but there was never enough time to take her with me, to nurture her so that she grew along with my independence. Instead, I had leave her there, in the cold and the dark, to battle storms that I could never shield her from. A lonely child, with weeping eyes and fear- stained hands, she is battered. While a body grew around her, and took the shape of a human molded by scars, she remained tiny and frail, unloved, unable to trust, with no desire to be brave. I hear her weep before I tear the last shadow and then I see her. I am so happy but she's mad at me and as she turns away angrily to avoid my gaze and touch, I see every scar bleeding from her back. I dash to her side and go down on my knees and hug the child that I once ...