December 17th, 2017

            I don’t think I’ve ever truly gotten over you. Sure, I’ve let go of my hatred upon learning how unjustified it truly was, but have I truly forgot you? No, no I haven’t. If anything, I think about you even more now.

I know how you look now. Sometimes, I’ll voluntarily whisk myself away into galleries of nothing but your face. I’ve read paragraphs upon paragraphs of carefully written words about you, and each phrase and clause is still with me today. I’m not exactly sure why I allow myself to engage in this self-destructive behavior. I know in the end it will only burn me and leave me a breathless mess, but I have no self-control when it comes to you.

I’m not going to act like you are in my mind like you were before, but I’m not going to pretend that I’ve let you go, because I haven’t. There is some force that keeps drawing me to you, and I don’t know why. Perhaps there’s some higher power trying to show me something, but I can’t figure out what that’d be. I can’t explain what about you and your story is so fascinating that I continue to be pulled in.

Sometimes I wish you’d leave my head. Other times I wish you’d stay, because in some moments, I don’t mind your presence in my thoughts. On some days, you’re the one thing in my head that stays the same when everything else changes. On other days, however, I want to just rip those thoughts straight out and wash them down the drain.

One of these days, I’m going to finally figure out why I can’t resist you, and perhaps that will be the day I learn how to control myself, and how to let go of you, because you’re fire, and when you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.


Jumped too Fast

The forest was wide, and brimming with light behind every crevice in between the trees. The rustling wind cut through, taking the leaves from the ground up with it, and flew around the vast area. I, however, stood towards the edge of the plot. Just a few feet away was the drop-off, the place where the trees stopped growing and the grass turned to stones that stopped right above the gushing river below.

The river had been the subject of many stories that I had heard. It was a stream of dedication, a cascade of strength, an overflowing basin of heart. It was the goal I had set for myself, and I stood so close to it, so close to my new reality.


I knew that sound all too well.

“Trying to ruin my moment, aren’t you?” I said, clenching my hands into fists upon hearing another leaf snap.

“I’m here to warn you, actually.”

Not moving at all, I said, “Warn me of what? Your ridiculous amounts of apathy? I’m going, and you’re not stopping me this time.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, your voice slightly louder than before.

“Too bad.”

I ran forward, towards the drop-off. Every step got me closer. I could begin to hear the water racing below. I was ready. I was ready for the moment I waited my entire life for.


You chased after me, but I jumped too fast into the surge of illness and misery. It was too late for me now. Time seemed to move in slow motion as I fell, never going fast enough. As I descended, I turned around, and that’s when I realized my mistake.

You weren’t who I thought you were. Continue reading “Jumped too Fast”

Café Monday

“What are you feeling right now?”

“Existential dread.”

I continued to stare down, watching your reflection through the glass of sweet tea that sat in front of me.

“C’mon,” you said, nudging my arm from across the table, “you’ll make it through.”

I stayed silent, without noise or motion.

“So it’s really that much, huh?”

I sighed in response.

“I see.” You paused. “Do you remember last spring at all? It was horrible for the both of us. I was caught up in that losing game, and you were caught up in that darned paper. You were so caught up in it, I thought you had lost it! You were completely absorbed in how much you hated that thing.”

“For good reason,” I replied, “it was three pages of torture.” I titled my head to your right, my gaze still locked of the tall glass of tea.

“Yeah, and look where you’re at now.”

I looked up, our eyes meeting.

“You’re still standing here, aren’t you?”

“Sitting, actually.”

You shook your head and let out a laugh as to tell me, ‘I knew what you meant.’ “Point still stands. You made it out then, you can make it out now.”

I smiled, sitting up straight. I took a sip from the sugar-loaded tea, leaning forward as I placed the glass back down. “Well, I guess I should go get started, huh?”

“Guess so.”

We picked ourselves up from off the café booths, and stepped out onto the hardwood floor.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to you as I took a step away from the table.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, flashing your signature smile that could light up an entire room.

Without any thought, I smiled back as we parted ways, not to see each other until next Monday. We were only apart for a few seconds, and yet I already couldn’t wait for next week. I hoped to be able to prove to you that I did make it through it all.

After Party

For a moment, everything seemed fine –– until she opened her eyes.

There was nothing but discarded wrappers and empty bottles in front of the girl. The air smelt of the expired food that sat on the coffee table, and of the spilt drinks that were seeping into the floor. The girl pushed herself up off the carpet enough to look to her left, which was just as much of a mess.

As consciousness kicked in, the girl started to shiver from the air conditioning that started blowing chilly air through the room. She pulled the denim jacket she had on closer to her body as she sat. Pulling her head up initiated a headache, causing the girl to fly back down to the ground, holding her head in pain. After a moment, she mustered up the strength to push herself back up.

“What happened last night?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

As her vision began to de-cloud, the girl looked around the room, searching for clues of what happened. She concluded she wasn’t alone, as someone’s entire outfit was thrown on the couch. Standing up on her knees, the girl examined the bottles covering the floor. The shapes, colors, and sizes of the bottles were different, but they all shared one thing in common; they were all once full of alcohol.

“Oh, finally, you’re awake.”

The girl turned around. Another woman stood there, her figure appearing tall, and her brown hair flaring out to reveal a face that was staring straight down.

“Red?” said the girl on the floor, recognizing the person who she called her sister.

“You got wasted off your *** on vodka last night.” Red seized the girl’s arm and pulled her up off the floor. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The girl followed her sister’s lead out of the house, taking one last glance at the destruction before walking outside.

A Dream that Never Was (Red Strings)

The last breeze of summer swept by as I entered the room. As I walked across the slick flooring, my gaze drifted to the distant mirror. However, I was not looking at myself; I was looking for someone else, someone following my path, watching my every move. As I continued to stare into the silver-coated glass, there was a shadow to my left, moving along the wall. I jerked my head around, but nothing was there.

I sighed, and began to walk further into the dim room, inspecting every surface. All of the stall doors were open, and each one appeared to be empty. I stopped right before the tiled wall forced me to, and stood still. As I stared straight ahead, I felt a chill run up from beneath me. The freeze-inducing air ran up my leg, and steadily moved up my body.

“Stop it!”

As I turned around, the iciness dissipated, leaving only a feeling of emptiness in its wake. I shifted myself to the left, moving my sights towards the metal dispensers mounted on the wall. Their stainless steel exteriors were spotless, showing a near-perfect reflection, minus the slight shifting of the image that tended to happen to metals of its kind. I glared at the reflection, my gaze tracing the shapes behind me, which were slowly starting to become human.

I stepped back. “No one is here, it’s just me,” I said. “It’s just me. Just me.”

I walked to the exit, breaking out into a run as I got closer to the door. I gripped the handle and pressed forward, sending myself out of the room. I stood straight as the door clicked behind me, taking in the sights of the airport around me. I looked around, my gaze jumping from each ray of light that shined down from the windowed ceiling. The place was vacant; not a single person was in sight.

I stepped forward. My feet fell out from underneath me, sending me tumbling as the floor fell to nothing. I came to a sudden halt as red strings gripped onto me, pulling my body every which way. Suspended in midair, I leaned my head backwards.

Our eyes locked.

It was over.

The Adventures of Blair Winslow: Operation Catfish [P3]

(On this wonderful Independence Day, I’m back with the final chapter of Operation Catfish! I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it. Please let me know how you liked the story as a whole, as I would like to do more of these stories someday (assuming that sports fans continue to be crazy).)


Blair sat in her car, which was in a parking lot right next to PPG Paints Arena. Per Kenny’s request, she had to stay there until Austin and his catfish were safely inside the building. She tapped her fingers along the steering wheel as she waited for Kenny to call her with the results.


Blair’s phone started ringing, spinning on her thigh. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Bad news,” said Kenny, “the fish got taken away from him. He said that the security guards were being prejudiced against Predators fans.”

“Great.” Blair sighed. “How do we get it in now?”

“Well, thankfully, I bought tickets earlier this year in case we’d need them, and I went ahead and forwarded you an email with one of them in it. Since you aren’t clearly rooting for Nashville – or rooting for Nashville at all -– you should be able to get in without too heavy of inspection.”

Blair sat up. “And as for the fish?” Continue reading “The Adventures of Blair Winslow: Operation Catfish [P3]”

The Adventures of Blair Winslow: Operation Catfish [P2]

(It’s been a day since my last post regarding this story, so I’d like to apologize for that real quick. I decided an every other day schedule would work better, as there’s a chance I could keep it up after all of this story was posted. Just like with the last chapter, there may be a few inaccuracies, but I hope they don’t distract you from enjoying this story.)


“So, I’m supposed to go into the store, buy the single largest catfish, and act oblivious if they don’t believe my intentions are well?” asked Blair.

“Yep, and you’ll be dictating the experience to me through that Bluetooth earpiece.”

Blair nodded, adjusting the earbud and plastic stuck in her left ear. “Alright, I can do this.”

Kenny pulled open the door, motioning with his arm for Blair to exit the room. She stepped back into the main portion of the building. Austin was waiting in one of the chairs by the storefront windows.

“Alright, I’m going to be heading down to the farmer’s market,” said Blair, looking down at Austin.

“Good luck,” replied the man, flashing the woman a thumbs up.

Blair exited the building, taking a left down the sidewalk, towards the market.

“You can hear me, right?” said Kenny through the earpiece.

“Yes, I can hear you alright.”

“Alright, good, So, you’re walking down to the market, right?”

“Uh –huh,” replied Blair, looking around herself. She hoped the other people who were out in the city didn’t hear her talking to what appeared to be nothing.

“Good, that means you’re on track. Let me know when you’re in the store.”

Blair continued walking, until the farmer’s market was in sight. It was a relatively large building, with a neon sign above the awning that read, “Pennsylvania Farmer’s Market.” She got off the sidewalk and walked through the parking lot to the building.

The woman stepped through the automatic doors, letting the sudden rush of cold air blow her shirt back against her skin. She looked around at the aisles of fresh fruits and vegetables, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Blair knew that the produce, no matter how delicious it looked, was not what she needed, however, so she walked straight to the back of the store, where the seafood was located.

As Blair approached, the woman behind the seafood counter turned towards her. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“I’m looking for catfish, actually,” Blair replied with a smile. Continue reading “The Adventures of Blair Winslow: Operation Catfish [P2]”

The Adventures of Blair Winslow: Operation Catfish [P1]

(The following is a short story I wrote before game 6 of the Stanley Cup Final. It is partially based off of real events that took place during the series, though it is a fictional piece. There may be inaccuracies in this piece — if so, please let me know, as I’d like to fix it. Thank you, and I hope that you are able to enjoy this quirky little story I put together.)


Blair Winslow was a rather well-off girl, living right outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She owned a comfortable suburban apartment, and was able to pay her bills with money to spare. This came from the earnings she made at her job, which was working for the Eastwood Company.

The goal of the Eastwood Company was simple, and could be explained by their motto of, “Helping fans since 2006.” The Eastwood Company was founded to help sports fans show support for their teams, in whatever way they desired. If asked, Blair would say the day of May 29th, 2017, captured the essence of her job perfectly.

Blair went into work that morning at eight ‘o five, like she usually did. She worked at the receptionist’s desk, ready to hear client’s cases. After buttoning on the blue work vest that designated her as an Eastwood Company employee, Blair sat down on the office chair that was positioned in front of her desk. Resting her head on her hand, she glanced out of the distant windows, taking in the sights of the city she worked in.

The building door swung open, causing a bell to ring. Blair sat up in her chair, facing the person who just walked in. Standing in the room was a middle-aged man, wearing dirtied jeans and a sweat-stained t-shirt. The distinct scent of a farm filled the area around him.

“Welcome to the Eastwood Company,” said Blair, fighting the urge to plug her nose. “How may we assist you today?” Continue reading “The Adventures of Blair Winslow: Operation Catfish [P1]”

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