Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency
Bio
The only thing I've done throughout my entire life is write, so thats what I'm doing!
Stories (23)
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They Will Never Realize What They Lost
We all have someone from our past who we wish we hadn’t lost. Someone whose life events seemed to guide them in a direction away from us. Leaving us sad, lonely, and heartbroken. We’ve all experienced that wretched pang of despair when we say to ourselves: “One day they will realize what they’ve lost, and they’ll come back.” Or have said: “I hope that you find your way back,” or “one day you will see that I am the one for you.” The pain of letting someone go whom you don’t want to can not be described in words. There is no amount of beautiful verbiage that could illustrate the un-subsiding waves of sadness and desolation that will cripple you in times of misery. Whether it was something in their lives that pulled them away, like a career move or a bad decision, we all have someone we always thought would see the error of their ways and come back to right their wrongs.
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency6 years ago in Humans
Why External Validation Always Fails
Fulfillment outside of oneself is only temporary. You can be complimented everyday by members of the opposite sex, you can be told constantly how awesome or amazing you are, but if you don’t believe it for yourself, you never truly buy into it.
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency6 years ago in Motivation
Chapter Three
The bar had left me in a bit of daze, I needed to do something to distract myself. The evening was a bit cool for the summer, but it was still high sixties. I walked out into the garage to start the bike. Waiting for her to warm up I peered over at the wall and see the yield sign that Brooke and I had stolen from the middle of the road a couple years back. It made me think back to those times, why did she need to come back to town? How arrogant could she really be to march in and demand that she still be a part of my life, what in the actual fuck?
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency7 years ago in Filthy
Chapter One
The taste of whiskey still burned on my lips as I stumbled out of bed, clumsily trying to gather up clothes that had been carelessly tossed aside. I glance over as she dreams, her copper hair draped over her face, laying silent, save for the slight whisper of her breath. The morning sun glistens off her porcelain skin, I knew she would be upset, I couldn’t be bothered with that right now. Should I lay back down and pander her fantasies of a future, while my head was clearly absent? I had to go.
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency7 years ago in Humans
Honest Sincerity
The was city quiet, almost eerie as we walked along deserted streets. I reached out with my dry calloused hand and touched her soft pale palm. I knew of a small walking trail just ahead that lead down to a private little alcove everyone called Puerto Rican beach. The shore was lined with small stones, smooth and weathered from hundreds of years of being beaten around by the current. I considered, for a moment, where they may have originated from, and how long it took them to reach this specific place in time. There was a fallen tree a few feet back from the shoreline and we decided to settle there for a short time. The reflection of the setting sun danced across the glassy water, while the blood red sky illuminated the evening with a romantic glow. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She was much younger then I, though it never showed. Elegant and defined, well spoken, and yet there was an unsurety about her. On one hand it was clear that we were both smitten. The way we gazed into each other's eyes as the deep red horizon slowly sank. It was all like something straight out of some cheesy romance novel, or the ending of your favorite romantic comedy. As the two of us sat there quietly discussing the weather, the entitlement of the younger generation, and love, of course we spoke of love. Neither one of us would say the word itself, yet there in that warm summer night, it spun around, between, and underneath us like a cool evening breeze. Half the time we didn't say anything. We just sat there gazing at each other, her smile was so innocent and sincere. I could tell she was trying to hold it back, not expose herself too far. There was a pain in her eyes that told me her past had not been easy, I could see that she was still healing from the wounds of her past. Yet there was a quiet comfort, an honest sincerity between us. I leaned in and kissed her forehead as if to say "whatever you've been through doesn't matter, you're safe now."
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency8 years ago in Humans
When it Rains it Pours
The rain broke the silence as my pickup tore through the puddles on the road. Wipers slapping across the wind shield on the fastest setting barely kept a visible path on the glass. My eyes should have been on the road, yet I would catch myself glaring over at her with a dumbstruck grin and wild admiration. Her green and brown eyes looking up to meet mine, with a soft smirk creeping from one corner of her mouth to the other. There was no direction or destination in mind, we flipped a coin at every intersection to decide where our adventure may lead. There was nothing overly exciting or even outwardly noticeable between the two of us, but there was a quiet laughter and a certain comfort that I had never experienced before. It wasn't magical by any stretch, but somehow mysterious and enchanting in its own unique way. The unknown taunted us on a dismal dark evening. Two people, strangers a few short weeks before, sit in silent contentment while The Gaslight Anthem hums quietly across my speakers. In my own dark saturated mind, I felt every emotion in the spectrum inside one single, solitary moment.
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency8 years ago in Humans
90 Miles an Hour
He could feel the cool evening breeze in his hair, 90 miles per hour, windows half rolled down in his late model pickup. It was a cool brisk evening for the middle of summer in upstate New York, he reached under the seat to make sure his father’s service revolver was still there, it had been a gift from his father on his deathbed. The wind from the window dried the blood on his face, he lights a cigarette and realizes that his clothes were still soaked with blood. As he saw the city lights disappear in the rear view he felt the cold beads of sweat as they ran down his neck. As the streetlights disappear and the yellow lines become mere dots on the highway, he feels overcome by emotion. Why did I think any of this was a good idea?
By Michael C. Lafferty-Shockency8 years ago in Humans
