David Deane Haskell
Bio
David Deane Haskell writes raw memoir & mythic fiction about trauma, healing, & hope. If you’ve ever felt broken, his work says: You’re not. You’re exactly who you’re meant to be.
Start here:
📚 Books
💖
Stories (4)
Filter by community
Perfect From a Distance
I hit the road, dying to see all those amazing places everyone was always posting about. You know the ones. Those adventure soaked flashy vids of amazing destinations most people only dream of. Far flung islands surrounded by turquoise waters, filmed with the wing of their jet in view, of course.
By David Deane Haskell3 months ago in Fiction
Revenge Shopping: How a Broken Headset Nearly Ruined Me
I only had the things for four months before they crapped out. Then, the damned replacement only lasted ten months after that! Sounds petty maybe, but it hits different when you're already on the ground. The breakup. The silence. The fact that the one thing helping me shut out the noise shit the bed twice? That hurts.
By David Deane Haskell3 months ago in Fiction
Awakening
It was his spiritual advisor who’d suggested he try meditation. “Just go and find what’s true.” That was the advice. Torn between warm feelings for the man and resistance to the idea, he asked if a walking meditation would be alright. Thankfully, his guru was all for it. He’d not had the strength to endure the kind of torment, just sitting and just breathing and, worst of all, just being with himself, would evoke. He tried a brief walkabout that night going out around his place for a short time, and even that was rather powerful, in a restless and uncomfortable sort of way. He thought about the toxicity in his life, his unstable relationships and poor decision making, and felt agitated and angry by the time he went back inside. He checked in with the guru, who simply smiled through the screen — theirs was an online relationship — and advised him to continue on.
By David Deane Haskell6 months ago in Fiction
Failsafe
Tim Solomon awoke to the first alarm, rising at the thirteenth. This was precisely thirty-nine minutes, during which time he engaged in a ritual of picking up the phone, checking the time, counting off the minutes, and closing his eyes. The count off, beginning at 6:22am and ending at 7:01, wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do. Time was limited, and concessions had to be made. But it was hard to know which misses would cost too much—the worst ones that never got fixed. So hard to know.
By David Deane Haskell6 months ago in Fiction
