Another English project for the housemate, converting a poem into a short story. As a disclaimer: the original poem, lines taken from that poem, and the key themes of this story belong to the original artist. My work is in the conversion into a short story, and the character of Death.
Poem converted: The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
It felt strange to not be alone, but he could hardly say it was an unwelcome change.
“Come then,” the elderly man whispered as he shrugged on his morning coat and pulled up the collar to brush his chin. Continue reading “A Fool by Choice”
I’m helping a housemate with their English class and we had to write a Shakespearean sonnet. Poetry is not my strength, but I was quite happy with this:
Continue reading “Redemption”
And so she walked. Her legs trembled, clothes barely held in tattered rags off her weak shoulders. Skin and bones, she was like a walking, living corpse that had died of disease and plague, and rose again; a nightmare. Her pale brown hair, once beautiful and full, thick, curling, now a rat’s nest of knots and grime. Her pale eyes searched the skies with no hope as they shrunk into their sockets quietly and shy.
She held her hands cupped before her as if holding a child, but draped across them was no infant; a grey piece of cloth, soft and threadbare, swaying in the breeze to flap at the end like a bird. Continue reading “And So She Walked”
Do you realize it?
I am always watching.
I cannot touch you until you ask, but how can I let you walk through a forest built of thorns and razors without my assistance?
I will breathe away what branches I can as you pass. Even if your legs are still sliced open, I have saved you from greater pain.
Yet, if you would have asked, I could have covered you in glistening steel those blades would have broken off on.
Continue reading “The Easiest Choice: Life Or Death”
The first time she saw the apparition, she was too young to keep the memory alive by the morning. Continue reading “Haunted”