Sour

Is the taste of my bile. I hug the porcelain bowl, body heavy, anchored to the tile. My throat burns and no honey here to hold my head up while my stomach churns. The fever won’t quit It’s lonely and painful. I pass out and I drown in my own vomit.    

Creatures – Flash

The first pet the little girl owned was a hamster. She was ten at the time. She named it Simon, loved it and took care of it as she was told. One day, her cousin, Lil’ Jo came to her. He took her up the stairs to her room and shut the door. Then he […]