Ghost Writer (63)

“Watching the lonely grow lonelier, I grow lonely too.”

The Ghost Writer


The Bite

Such candid emotions
They bite at your skin
Nipping and teasing out the truth
Un-gentle persuasions
So close to true pain
That know the answers before they are given
Shaking out falsities
Like a dog with a bone
Whose teeth will never blunt
And eyes never tire
But the last laugh is yours
As the agony of withdrawal builds
For the simple reality is this
They could’ve just asked

50 Word Stories – In Cocoa

It was an idea, a fanciful dream. I packed nothing and left everything.

The plantations were green, not brown. A prevailing wind filtered out the sounds of humanity’s pickers but the life I had wished for never existed.

I returned home deflated. My mum smiled and offered me a coffee.


Beneath the veneer, the sparkling wit and quaffed hair lay the remnants of a soul in despair; it was his eyes that gave him away. They were lost. He would always be lost.

I pitied him then, turned away with the broadest back. And though he spat venom, riled and roared, it missed on all accounts. So weak!

I left him to his collected friends and so-called compatriots like grapes on the vine missed in the picking. Worthless, a vintage fit only for insects, he’d rot into the soil without ever knowing what it was to taste champagne.

Author: The Eternals Series

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