Shancia Speaks: Short Stories Superb!

Hey you, you're wandering again, spaced out into a far-flung universe while Earth beckons for your attention, for your presence. You have not heard a word I said, have you? Whatever weighs on your mind has placed an anchor, a stronghold that pulls you, grounds you, contorts, controls and subdues you. The thoughts of what could have been, what can be and what really is toss you around and squash you, burying you so far down into the darkness, jeering as they win this game.  Hey you, yes I know.......you thought some things would last forever and you believed some things should have gone your way but why don't you let those things teach you...mold you, water you, feed you...let the things that you thought you couldn't survive but eventually did, nurture your growth. I desire for you to bloom, with elegant, elongated spines that berth roots of harmony wherever they trail. Rebel for your soul and take back your glory and stop leaving me to play search and find, while you wearil...

Sitting alone, surrounded by ghostly white walls which felt like they were quickly closing in, Etta retreats into her mind once again. It was thronged in there as usual, and she fought a good fight to retrieve that memory.... the only one that made her feel alive. There he was, a proud and heavenly thing, standing in the outlying crevice of her mind, agog as ever.... of course, he knew his impetus, he gave her life. They lock gazes and he encapsulates Etta, causing her to shudder in her chair and bringing an onset of rumbling that only Etta and the walls could hear. Memories flew like darts and in between sadness and joy Etta professed and confessed, with only the light breeze to capture the depth of what he meant to her and the cuts and bruises of the pain he dealt her. "You are so beautiful, Etta. I think I want this to last forever. You make me feel like who I have always desired, you make me feel seen." Etta sharply turned to the right as if to face his essence in the phy...

Ameera had just landed her promotion as senior writer at the local newspaper called "The Truth." Writing was her calling and she could not function without her fingers tapping ideas haphazardly until they unlocked puzzles or created mysteries. Her boss was persistent. One week in and he was already making demands. With personal battles shooting like darts and her heart as the target, she felt like she just needed some more time. Ameera's boss, Mr. Trial, was simply merciless and time was the one thing he always announced he did not have. He wanted something riveting, something to tug at the experience of the reader, something unique yet universal, something to relate to. With the Monday deadline playing peek-a- boo and with Sunday night teasing and jeering as it came with such shock, Ameera knew she had to pedal....and fast. An episode of "Golden Girls" was blaring loudly from the television and then the theme song darted in a luring echo across the room. "...