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Dear, Penelope Samuel Bird Love of my life and cause of my death, where have you been? I cherish and honor you, despite your betrayal in never having the dignity to exist. Oh how I miss what never was. It isn’t just that I think of you, I can’t think of anything else. I try to labor and yet every thought leads back to you. I try to write, but it all seems like consolation to not have you. As I lay in bed ready to sleep, I don’t want to, and yet I have never wanted anything mo

Sound to Music Samuel Bird Whether known when you are living them out or not, some memories have a weight and sheerness that finds them seared into one’s psyche to where you identity is inseparable from it. One moment so deeply etched in my mind, finds itself as present as my waking experience. The long-needle white pine to the west, diffused the late-april rays through its branches onto a small me, sitting against the house. In my hands was a hard earned prize; a cheap child

Altar Samuel Bird His foot slipped too far forward in his sandal as he climbed the brush-covered hill, catching a sharp rock, and throwing his upper body down against the ground. He caught himself and tried not to breathe as the sharp cool pain quickly turned into a throbbing heat. He looked down to see his toe was not bleeding, but clearly would feel bruised in the morning. He looked away, to the top of the hill, as he straightened his long cloak and picked up his staff agai

Killing Consensus Samuel Bird It is hard to move past contextual consensus. I have written a few books and read hundreds, and yet still feel like the illiterate farm boy that I was. I can suggest all the facts that oppose this experience, but the experience of being such a farm boy is still present. This contextual consensus comes from the narrative of my life and my seemingness of it. The issue is that the story is chosen, whether by fate or self, and we are left to accentua

Hate Samuel Bird Everything is so much more to me than it is. I can’t just go the store to acquire food. I have to be in the midst of ideas and souls swirling around in their striving. In every action, gesture, and artifact, I see a reference to the concepts that make up the invisible portions of man. Man is his own art endeavor to live out the beauty he finds in concepts, via symbol, sound, and shape. To see me is to see the work boots of my heritage, the beard of my culture

I do not know what this chapter is about Samuel Bird What do we want and why do we want it? If we want something, how can we then also want something else, especially given that it could cost us achieving the first thing? How do we reconcile and sacrifice wanting one thing for another? Once we identify what we want, how do we acquire it? What is our next step when we fail to obtain it after doing what we thought we would? Finally, what does all of this wanting and seeking say

Why I still need to write Samuel Bird “Thank You God, thank You.” I said as the tears and sweat mingled in my palms over my eyes. “Thank You God, thank You.” I said again as my chest began to feel tight and my voice began to crack from emotion and repetition. “Thank You, God, thank You.” I said again as I held my whole existence in front of me as a cherished gift to which I had to take consideration for its even more valuable Giftor. As I started this prayer from nowhere, I g

Through Flames and Pages The Dialogue, the Dilemma, and the Death By Samuel Bird Chapter One Walter laid out his school uniform on his freshly made bed. Against the backdrop of his scratchy wool blanket full of holes, he inspected his navy blue pants, matching suit coat, and white shirt. Despite his city and even the world around him falling to rubble, he did not want to have a spec of it on his suit.  Once fully inspected, he dressed and then looked in the mirror to make sur

The last breath we take A very short story about examining our lives as they come to a close Chapter One He pulled a long breath of air as he let it out in a brisk sigh of annoyance. His large black rubber-soled boots banged into the steel grate floor of the barracks of the 273rd Flying Fortress of the intergalactic space armada. The quick rhythm to his steps illustrated his annoyance and the rush he was in. He came to her in the middle of the hall as she stood there smiling

A click, and then nothing forever A very short story about whether existence is worth it and if we can justify it Chapter One Her hands gripped the controls of her starfighter with an increasing tightness as the knuckles became white. Her veteran memories of copious missions seemed to be at her back, ready to support her. However, this was the biggest mission she had ever been on. As she always did right before a mission as a bad habit, she began to suspect and doubt the inte