Sometimes I write things.

Laurie was the waitress of a desolate diner out past the bend of Crawfish Creek. Twelve hours after she arrived to shift, she left. The summ...

I suppose when I was younger I fancied trauma as a dramatic device. I could proclaim of the changes in weather, the loss of a phone, the sub...

My favourite thing about her was the way her lips felt as I tried to inhale them in my desperation. A hard case with a fluid base, caramel ...

Six in the morning, You leave graveyard shift complete, Scrubs off khakis on. Terror They tell you in medical school ‘Don’t l...

There was nothing but grey at the top of that sleet-drenched shallow slope. You ran in bursts, your pride fighting with your desperation no...

The dirt collected in clumps between his joints. He was panting as he snuffled around at the feet of his masters. Humans with hungry eyes - ...

'Please don't hurt yourself.' The walls begged me in their noiseless scream as I tried to melt the plastic from reluctant blade...