Stéphane Dreyfus

Joined June 2022

44 stories

Bio

Melanchoholic.

Struggling to obey the forgotten rules.

Achievements (1)

Runner-Up in the Uncommon Challenge

Stories (44)

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The Wounded Mind
Such thoughts pass through me, Let them go: arrows piercing. Observe their sharp flight. Rage is hard to stop: A patch of ash ruins the soul.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
Menace From the Deep Uphill
Unlike most visits, I am not in the ruined city. It extends along the infinite coastline, in the unending twilight That is both literal and temporal.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
Blue Spinner
Spinner in blue taunts, I can feel my life ebbing. Why won't the show start?
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
Into Father's Arms
Has it been so long, Blue bathrobe, or was it brown? Please catch me again.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
Dark Artwork
A show with no sales, An indigo masterpiece Dominates the wall.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
The Doom of Kickball
[DISCLAIMER - I don't always feel as I do below, but sometimes things get very dark. What happened below truly transpired and did mark me, but I have been able to change. Most days are much better than this, but when things are sad, I sometimes remember why.]
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Psyche
Space Admiral of Nothing
There were three cartoons I was more or less allowed to watch once I finally made it home from school. More often than not I missed at least one of them, as the trek home from San Francisco to Berkeley, as a sixth grader, alone, on public transit, was grueling and lengthy. I tended to miss G.I. Joe, and rarely minded. Jingoistic conditioning rankled me even then. And while I did enjoy the transformers, I didn't mind arriving home too late to catch more than the last few minutes of an episode. I was only ever sad when I missed the horribly abused (I didn't know it at the time) Macross series that those of us here in the U.S. had to take in as Robotech.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Humans
Buddhas Buddhas Everywhere and Not a Drop to Drink
Jesus was the first person I noticed when I walked into the mess tent. He was very hard to miss. He sat, gently giving off light, surrounded by eager students, at the table closest to a short end of the tent through which I had just entered. He had a large bowl containing some kind of legume, and was partaking heartily as he interacted jovially with the people around him. The light he gave off was lovely. Somehow bright, but not on such a mundane spectrum as our own light bulbs, and so the brightness was registered only as awesome, calming, and loving, and did nothing to hurt the eyes. I could feel myself getting uneasy.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Journal
The Divine Anchor
Is it my body or mind that leans frequently towards the abyss? Who made the choice to be this way: to fear the scorching flames of living so much, that the void grows in appeal?
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
Broken Chains
I invited all of you into my heart. Soon after, each and every one of you became a sword and flew outwards, screaming about your own destinies. The shreds of my own core, mere scraps, could not resist the small breeze of everyday life, and all that remained was blown away.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
An Interlude in the Four Wheeled Prison
Some cities are famous for it. How terrible, small, and impotent they make you feel Whenever you have to get somewhere more
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets
How Can I Give This to You
The idea of existentialist individuality, and many of its attending struggles, must have been first imagined by a poet. Or, perhaps, a logician listening patiently to the quasi mad ramblings of a good poet friend.
By Stéphane Dreyfus3 years ago in Poets