Coma Girl_The Interstate_The Holiday_Domino Sees the Moon
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Coma Girl
Coma Girl Written By: Lilac St.MaddenTHE DREAM ZONEThere was a night that everything changed. My health, my family, my friends, and mainly, my thoughts.Now they say some thoughts are invasive. I've had my fair share of those. But for some reason, those intrusive thoughts seeped into my dreams, somehow causing me to fall into a coma, because of utter shock and confusion, causing stress to my brain.Now I'm confused as well. But I'm in this coma, helpless, forced to listen but not speak, be touched but not touch, be ...
The Interstate
The interstate across the street never sleeps. A constant hum penetrates the windows of my home at all hours of the day and night, little vibrations finding my ears everywhere I go. The hum doesn’t care if I’m sleeping, eating, writing, crying, or talking; the hum is relentless. You might think the morning and evening rush hours are the loudest, but the bumper to bumper pack moves slow and careful. I imagine a bigger city would be full of horns and sirens, but this is Iowa. Iowans reserve their horn only for the most pressing of situations, so I guess that’s a stupid silver lining.Of course my...
The Holiday
The fog hung thick in the cold autumn air, so that everything more than a few feet away was reduced to eerie silhouettes. With it came an uneasy silence, penetrated by the muted whisper of the occasional car that dared to venture out in such weather or the murmurs of our group. Empty bird feeders hung from trees in gardens like miniature 18th century gibbets. We huddled together, hands shoved under armpits, suitcases at our feet, as we waited for the coach to arrive. “Wish the driver would hurry up,” grumbled Jack. I ignored him. “Not everyone’s here yet,” pointed out another member of the gro...
Domino Sees the Moon
I hate myself a little more today but that’s not much different than yesterday. Maybe I don’t hate myself. Maybe what I’m doing and where I’m at is affecting how I’m doing. My lonesome thought is disrupted by the demanding growl of my stomach. Maybe I’d feel better if someone in this cursed place knew how to cook. “I already told you twice Devorah, dinner is at 5:00 and lunch was only two hours ago. You can have a pudding cup if you need a snack until then,” Howl states fighting back. He talks to the other residents like they’re children but with me he always just tells me like it is. I appre...