Elderly women whisper 

Elderly women whisper: “marry a man that loves you more than you love him.”

Fall in love, get married and have babies. This is the unspoken rule. This is how life is lived.

A husband, a wife, a house in the suburbs. Fulfilling Big Brother complete. This is what we display to the public, social normative behavior. Wouldn’t want to stand out.

In that house, hidden from the public view, depression, irritability, wild thoughts and obsessive behavior. Brilliant minds are partially revealed, but the invisible force of the fear of nonconformity drives us to shelter those ideas most objectionable.

But what about happiness? A secret love, a passion, something more. Don’t let them see it. It is not allowed.

Out of earshot rapid ideas are exchanged between lovers. The conversation is stimulating, exciting, brilliant. The chains of normalcy are broken, excitement reaches a climax, euphoria is found in forbidden love making.

A secret is kept, for now the lovers live in painful longing. The roles of the nuclear family continue. Big Brother smiles.The grandmothers are proud. Conformity complete.



Invisible Attacker Writing Challenge

Various Authors


In the shadows, he stalks his pray

little did the samurai know, this was his last day

this feud has been going on for for years and he traveled for a week.

finally the urge for revenge was at it’s peak

running at fool speed without making a sound

he locked on his target, leaped and spun round and round

in mid air he aimed his sword right in the middle like Thuringia

off with the samurai’s head, he just got fucked up by a ninja



Chatting online – you’re supposed to be kind.
I really thought we were friends…
But invisible attackers on the other end of the line
Make fun of my typing instead.

– sharkwrite.tumblr.com

A ravenous void
It’s infinite nothingness



Ceramic tiles line the walls around me,
Tepid water fills my nostrils.
I choke,
The air escapes me.
They breathe it in,
Like they breathe my strength, as I lose it.
But the water fills my lungs.
I splutter,
Like I choke on the air that surrounds me.
“Make your choice carefully”
“I have”
Thrust back into the deep,
Like a tunnel engulfing me.
Like my soul is trying to escape my body.
Like a knife is slicing through me.
It would be a blessing.



Brian sat alone in his apartment. He didn’t mind his lack of social interaction, in fact he fooled himself into thinking he hated it – that was most nights. Tonight is different. He felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time, he felt lonely. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone, anyone besides his cat. As he sat he pondered the past few months, when he didn’t always avoid the real world. Hell, he enjoyed people. But not since his mom’s death has he left his apartment, let alone have the ability to go see his friends who he had bailed on enough they stopped texting. But today was different, today he wanted to be with someone.

 Just as he let this thought into his mind, almost as if it was meant to happen, his phone shook and glew, he hadn’t seen it act in such way in weeks. It felt foreign, his heart dropped as he looked, it was a number that he didn’t recognize. He sighed and let it go to voicemail. Shortly after the phone shook again; same number, same tune,but it felt more aggressive. He was surprised, doesnt this person know he hadnt answered calls in a long time? Before he knew it he was on the phone. “Hello?” He said wearily. A low murmur came from the other side, followed by a soft yet grizzled voice of a man ” knock knock Brian” the voice said with a giggle. “Who’s there?” Brian responded regretting following the voices direction “boo” said the voice. ” Boo who” Brian shakily answered, “don’t cry Brian I haven’t even started, see you soon.” The voice chortled. 

Brian shaking reached for his green bottle that was filled to the brim with Xanax. He delicately pulls out two bars and pops them in his mouth and washes it down with his flat and warm shit beer. He lays down wishing to forget his weird call, promising to not ever answer to phone again. He closed his eyes hoping to drift off to sleep. After tossing and turnin, it wouldn’t last. Shortly after he was woken by a sudden shooting pain and the warm trickle of blood pouring from his skull. As he woke, his eyes returned to focus, but he could only make out the grin on the figure standing above him. “Knock knock Brian,” the figure said with a gleeful smile. As Brian witnessed the bloody hammer that had finally come into focus come towards him. Brian felt something he hadnt felt since his beloved mother would comfort him as a child. Brian felt peace.



Closing my eyes, I fall
far from reality.
Slipping between parallel universes,
But you can still see my body.

Words come out of my mouth like
Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Silent instructions move
My plastic body.

The act of person reaches
An unobtainable threshold.
Severe concentration deficit,
Food burning on stove.

Only a matter of time.

Viscous water resistance,
My head disappears beneath the Hudson
Held by the invisible attacker

I say to me, stop!
But my body has become
The marionette of my dark soul.


6 word stories (various authors)

“I feel profoundly sad and melancholic”

“I don’t have all the answers”

“Yes. Of course I have ghosts”

“Momentos from another era, left behind.”

“I can’t focus. There’s so much.”

“what did i get myself into”

“I wish I was never born”

“Long journeys take cause homesickness. Treatment.”

“i didn’t ask to be born”

“Some day the sun will die.”

“three words: evolution is a lie”

“This is my six word sentence”

“Rip my cuticles, blood at last”

“I think this is based off a challenge that was posed to Hemingway. He wrote: Baby shoes for sale. Never used.”

“Having hard time. Gonna try later”

“Garage closed. Engine on. Just breathe.”

“Oppressive heat sedates… gradient plum salivates.”

“I love costco, monster on sale”

“ah! oh, huh? um… meh. om”

“Time for my role, professional person”

“melt into the couch, Dogs pant”

“return from vacation, dog has cancer”

“my sister pregnant, now its gone”

“Grandpa dying, son reads story aloud.”

“No real people, only telegram cares.”

“Suffer by day, sweet Seroquel sleep”

“I lied to my psychiatrist… Again”

“Smear fingers in graphite, not blood”

“My mom is great, but insane”
“I wish my coworker would leave.

Get the fuck outta here bitch.

Your shift is over, so leave.

Stop finding ways to stalk Mark

You’re both taken, just go away.

Ba boom, i’ll see you later”
(six sentences at six words a piece)


“6 word stories” – by various authors

Orange Bottles

translucent orange bottles,
unmistakable rattle,
No one has to know
They will tell me I do not need them.

Internal suffering hidden behind socially acceptable facial expressions.
Tell them how many activities you did,
how little rest you got,
you want to appear strong.
The answer to “how are you?” Is always “good!”

Dulled senses. Silence more enjoyable than music. Pleasure is a distant memory.

If functionality continues, your thoughts are inconsequential.
push the boundaries of your mind until it is so uncomfortable you can hardly bear it.
But do it with a smile.
There! Now you are doing it right!

The fallacy of society: strength is someone who suffers, does not take the “easy” way out.

I hide. I do not let them see. My arms and legs leaden. A parched mouth and cracking lips tolerated.
Too great is the energy expenditure required to reach a glass of water .

Don’t take the pills! They say UV rays and endorphin release is the cure. Wouldn’t want them to know you needed more.

No longer able to mask the suffering with a smile, I do the polite thing of shielding myself from society.

Soothing thoughts of death come in flux,
harmless by virtue of depression’s immobility.

Apparently I once felt happiness, But looking at the masses of society
smiling at laughing babies, I wonder what it is to experience emotion

I bathe once in awhile because I am supposed to. Pretend to have a “real” illness, Sin of sloth, don’t let them see your indulgence

It’s about quantity of years, not quality. Suffer and live a long life, you are strong.

An hour is easily identified, when fog inexplicably lifts..

Electric waves to fingertips. hear more, see more, feel more, do more. Urgent creativity. make up for lost time.

Now we can shout about all the tasks completed with so little sleep.
amorously, joyfully, vibrantly, spiritually, sexually
manic laughter is contagious.

Heightened senses, fabric grating on skin, sounds are too loud, will someone please turn off that radio?

Nothing is simple.

Impulsivity takes over, suppression of urges is key to staying alive.
Imminent danger, don’t let them see.
With irritability Amorous feelings transform to disgust. Hatred.

I don’t want to die!
Kill yourself! Hang yourself! Jump off that bridge!
Suppress suppress
I don’t want to die!
Laterally, you know how to make the incision, I think there is a rope nearby
Suppress suppress
I don’t want to die!

These other emotions are cut up and labeled as separate diagnoses.
Suicidal obsession, pure O type OCD. Break me to bits, define me.

Safety is found in pills, off white, distinct rattle.

Ability to don socially acceptable smile with ease regained. Easy now.
They can’t understand that nothing is a void and all is like King Midas.
The pharmacy gives white bags to hide translucent orange bottles, it’s polite, because OCD has become a mockery, and Bipolar too big of a pill to swallow.