Tendrils of the Dark
Forgotten by the cold light -
Scratching at your soul...
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More stories from Vincent Comrie and writers in Poets and other communities.
Is it Real?
Another alarm yanks me from my dream state into the crisp, cold air of a winter morning. Suddenly, all my senses snap to life at once. I wince at the thought of pulling back the covers, allowing the chill to caress my body, still warm from sleep. Another day. Another trip to the slave trade—where I am the slave. Shackled not by iron chains, but by failing technology, mundane co-workers, and forgetful employers steering their business like a rocking boat on a turbulent pond.
By Vincent Comrie5 months ago in Writers
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 6 days ago in Confessions
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