This Here Place

I am trying to be written. I am draft after draft, words and whole lines scratched out, and sometimes I am my own arguing in the margins, hasty question marks writ large, ink trailing. I am trying to be told. What is my life? What am I for? Everything I have done to this point [...]

A slight rumbling

"Shannon?" She is whispering in the dark from the top bunk, and I am frozen in place on the bottom one. It's a bit after 4am. "I'm awake," I whisper back. "Did you hear that?" I did hear that, first one pistol shot, followed by six or seven more in rapid succession, somewhere close, between [...]