Justice Taylor
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Stories (4)
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Christmas Island
The early horizon is vast but our dreams are vaster. They have to be, in order for us to carry onward through the devastating trauma and oppression that we experienced on Christmas island starting the year 2042. For me and my wife this darkness had ended in the year 2050, though it's possible that the trauma will never leave our hearts and minds. It all began in the winter of 2042- Only four years after the new pope Leonard Varnelli was ordained. Rome had of course been taken back by the church only a year after Varnelli had been instated. The summer of 2039 was when Rome was recaptured. Now I know that you're asking yourself "What does Christmas Island- An Australian territory, have to do with Rome?" Well it didn't have anything to do with Rome. It never did. Until it did. I never knew why it happened until after we fled, and neither did Abigail. But now I know, therefore I’ll tell.
By Justice Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Pearl Nancy
My brow was furrowed on that gloomy morning, as I traveled through the dark storm on my way to Mary’s Cafe for my daily coffee and biscuits. Every morning in Somerset is just as the last; cold, black, and wet. My luster for life had been long departed for quite some while, whilst I hid in my shoebox of an apartment day after day, smelling nothing but my own foul and unmanaged aromas. I would wake, and curse each day under my own rotten breath, head to see Mary, and indulge myself in her bitter coffee and crunchy bread, then I’d make my way back to my place of residence to write transcripts of audio recordings for the community college. My wildest dreams had come true, and these were the fruits of my labor. Plenty to savor.
By Justice Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Misery
In the South Tower down a porcelain hall, there's a broken mirror on a granite wall, this ancient mirror goes by the name of Misery. This shattered glass reflects my tattered robes, this porcelain hall reflects the fragile nature of my past. Oh how long this pain may last and cage me in my misery. I slowly creep down the porcelain halls, afraid to touch the fragile walls, if they shall break then I may fall, descending down infinity.
By Justice Taylor3 years ago in Poets
