Wayward Thoughts: Grieving

The worst type of crying wasn’t the kind everyone could see — the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes, the sore throat and burning eyes. No, the worst kind happens when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A part of it withered and…

300 Writing Prompts #15: How Does A Memory Sound?

I have never been one to take photos. I wasn’t much of a photographer and I didn’t see the purpose in them. Besides, if you have any part of Native American in you, then folklore suggests that photographs steal people’s souls and I didn’t want to be on either end of that conundrum. Stealing the…

300 Writing Prompts #14: The Fear of Silence

That was the night I finally understood why people fear silence… That night was a purple tranquility that was bound in holy matrimony with the poetry of stars that sprinkle the sky. The kind of night where the stars above only wanted to be embraced so that could shine all the brighter from the love…