Often is sleep described as the way one
escapes life’s bitter resentment. Those suns
Author Archives: decnal
A Long Setup
By Declan Quinn. For the “the two stood face to face” prompt.
The two stood face to face, frozen in their little moment in time. There they stood, a sharp outcrop of black against the bleak white backdrop. It was like standing in a white room, except that the walls, floor, and ceiling didn’t exist. Nothing existed, except for the two, standing against the passing of time, the infinite of space, confined to their own little corner of their own universe.
2 a.m.
By Declan Quinn
It’s 2 a.m.
Where I am
my room is lonely;
Its light is the only one
that glares out at the dark street
the empty street
Ice shards
by Declan Quinn
I walk along this winding road
Wind and snow tickle my face
This bleak white stretches for miles
Thoughts of discouragement slow my pace
Dark Natures
by Declan Quinn
Blink. Blink. Blink.
This had been my routine for the past 45 minutes. Blink. Repeat. Blink. Repeat. Occasionally I’d cast a glance to my clock, if only to break the monotony. Its soft green glow penetrated the dark much like how cold slowly seeps through the frail bones of the ancients. Slowly, and with a dark foreboding that hints at something more, well, sinister. The blinking digits of the digital face were akin to the winking eyes of some unseen beast, taking refuge in the shadows.
This, however, was not as important as the fact that these demonic numbers read “12:38.” I had lay down to rest nearly three hours ago. Yet sleep did not come. Continue reading
The Barrel of Fate
by Declan Quinn. Inspired by the Hunger Games. Response to a writing prompt: “write from the point of view of someone about to be killed”
It was rather unfortunate, really. I thought it was a joke at first. I was surprised to see it at all; this really didn’t seem like the time for jokes, especially one as cruel as this. It was only when I had gone through the bag three times that I realized my fate was set. And from that moment forward, my entire existence rested in the only thing I was given: a butter knife. Continue reading
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