R.C. Taylor

Joined July 2021

285 stories

Bio

I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.

Follow along for stories about a little bit of everything (i.e. nostalgia and other affairs of the heart).

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Stories (285)

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The Hypocrite
I used to work in a psych hospital and every day I would gently encourage the patients to make their beds even if they didn’t want to,
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Poets
The Trees, The Sky, & Me
We were both birds On solid ground, With dreams of the vast sky above us, But I longed to do more than dream, I wanted to fly,
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Poets
I Still Leave Space For You
I still leave space for you in my bed. I didn’t realize that I had even been doing it Until one day I was changing the sheets,
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Poets
The Hourglass Dessert
Without a home My heart wanders aimlessly, Its toothpick legs and weary feet Struggling to hold up its heavy body. Everything is blurred to it now--
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Poets
Marigold Dissonance
A favorite childhood story of mine used to be the story of the birth of me and my sister--our hilarious entrance into this cruel world.
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Fiction
The Weight of the First. Top Story - July 2021.
Fireflies winked in and out of existence as the warm air enveloped me. It would have been a welcome hug if it wasn’t for the humidity that clung to my skin.
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Fiction
Birthday Matches
With mousy hair and a mousy demeanor, it had always been easy for people to look past me. Even my own mother never wanted to look at me. A washed out actress whose only goal in life now was her next high, I was the reason that her career had been ruined since I had destroyed her perfect figure.
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Fiction
Where I Left Her
Contrary to popular belief, happiness is not found in peace; it is weathered by it. The concept of peace is stagnant and, as humans, the last thing that we are meant to be is still and unchanging. We are dynamic beings, constantly learning and constantly growing. Happiness is not found in peace. Happiness is found in change, and happiness is found in growth---in the journey of coming into one’s own over and over and over again until we reach the finish line.
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Fiction
Cerebrum
“The stars are dead,” my caretaker told me once, her face now a shapeless blur in my memory though her words stayed as clear as the hue of the candlelight by which she had whispered them.
By R.C. Taylor5 years ago in Fiction