E. C. Mira
Bio
I’m a poet at heart, always chasing the quiet moments and turning them into words. Most of what I write is poetry, but every now and then inspiration pulls me in new directions.
www.poetrybyecmira.com
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Stories (113)
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Fair and Balanced
The news has been a reliable way for people to get a better idea of what is going on in the world for many years. Before the news was broadcast on radios and TVs, it was spread through newspapers. Every day people listen to the news. In the mornings on the drive to work broadcasters talk through the radio. On CNN you can tune in at any time to see what is going on. People tune in and listen to what they are being told without realizing how biased it can be. The people on the news all have their own opinions and thoughts. The media we take in cannot be completely unbiased as long as the people presenting it are biased.
By E. C. Mira4 years ago in Journal
The Way Things Used to Be
I miss you, or maybe more specifically, I miss when I didn’t have to miss you. I’ve always found it sort of funny how someone can go from a total stranger to your best friend overnight. Talking to you came as naturally as breathing. I never had to think about it, and I never felt like I couldn’t just be myself. I was surprised at how comfortable it felt hanging out with you, at how effortless conversations were. For a while, you were the first person I said good morning to, and the last person I said goodnight to. I suppose when you spend all of your free time with someone, getting at least slightly attached to them is inevitable. I never planned on getting so used to your company, but I did.
By E. C. Mira4 years ago in Confessions
Letters to Nadia
Nadia, The last few weeks have been rough. Mom and dad are arguing more than ever and I just want you to come home. I wish I knew what happened that night. I remember being woken up by slamming doors at 2 a.m. and looking out my window to see mom and dad driving off. I looked over to your bed and it was empty, and that’s when I knew something wasn’t right. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just sat on the floor and waited. Dad didn’t get back until almost two days later. He didn’t say anything when he walked in, just motioned for me to come with him. We drove to the hospital where mom was waiting with you. By then, you were asleep, and the doctors didn’t know what had happened. It’s already been three months since the accident and so far nothing seems to be changing. I still visit you every day after school. Most of the time I just sit and do my homework. I write you letters every day too. You’ve got quite a few waiting for you when you wake up. I don’t really know what else to write today. Not much happens anymore. When mom and dad aren’t fighting they’re at work. The house feels so empty with them always gone. This morning they were arguing about apples. Dad ate the last one for breakfast and mom started yelling about how he always takes whatever he wants without any thought for others. I hid in the bathroom during this, I thought it was best not to get involved. They still treat me like a child, they think I don’t notice how our bills are always a little late, or how we never have more than a couple days worth of food in the cabinet. They stay up all night arguing about money, hospital bills are expensive, grocery prices are increasing, and school costs too much. But I hope things will get better soon. I miss you every day.
By E. C. Mira4 years ago in Fiction
New Beginnings
I’ve always considered myself an adventurous person. So when my best friend showed up knocking on my window at 3 a.m. asking me to move to Chile with her, I did the reasonable thing and started packing. It’s not that I wasn’t happy with my life in Glendale, but we were both ready for something different. It didn’t take long to pack my things, less than thirty minutes and my suitcase was packed. I didn’t need much, some clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, the necessities. Other than that, everything else could be replaced. The idea of a new start was exciting, and as long as I had Yelena with me, there was nothing else I needed. By 3:37 a.m. I was in the passenger's seat of her car, leaving behind the life I had grown used to.
By E. C. Mira4 years ago in Fiction
Nighttime Secrets
I’ve always loved walking around the city at night. When the crowds have all but disappeared and the noise of the city has quieted to a whisper. When the only light comes from the moon and the stars. When the sun has set I am finally free, if only for a little while. No one is awake to ask me questions, to seek my guidance on anything. I enjoy my role as queen, but it can be exhausting. To have thousands of people looking to me for answers and watching my every move. It is absolutely terrifying if I am being completely honest. I am not allowed to make mistakes, too many people depend on me. I cannot say anything wrong, I have to constantly watch what I say so as not to offend anyone. I have always had a short temper, and keeping that in check has been a skill I never thought I could possess. That is why I love the night time. It is when I can be me. No pretenses, no acting confident and calm when I really just want to go hide in my room and cry. Night brings a taste of the freedom I will never have.
By E. C. Mira4 years ago in Fiction
