Wednesday, January 21, 2009


I crawl in circles on my hands and knees. Around my neck is a taught metal chain attached on the other end to an old wooden post. I am rarely fed properly but I don't really notice. I am in a daze. My pants are frayed and bursting at the seams and my old stained white t-shirt is much too small for me. I am unclean and I stink. Even my body is too small for my age, stunted by a lifetime of suffering. I should be in adolescence by now but instead my body looks like an 8 year old. If I wanted to, I could stand up, snap the chain, and leave. I am big enough. I have the power to do that, but it doesn't occur to me. I know no different, I don't know I have power, so I just continue doing what I have always done. I continue to crawl around the pole, the hard metal chain pressing tightly against my throat.


  1. Oh wow, what a dark and beautiful writer you are. Super talented and I like the array of characters and scenes and locales you have. Very nice work.

  2. Thanx! You know, I really do dream these stories so all I am doing is writing them down in a decent manner from memory. I am not sure where the character ideas come from, either deep subconscious or what.


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