msaraann's profile
AGE:
32
LOC: Duvall, WA
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: December 19
LOC: Duvall, WA
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: December 19
I’ve written a memoir. That’s mostly what I intend to post here. I’ve also written a novel and I write articles for Suite101 and elsewhere online.
I love reading, especially vampire novels, and I have known I wanted to write ever since I discovered my mother’s novel collection when I was eleven.
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My ancestors said that the bogeyman is a type of faerie who lives in the bog and kidnaps children so he can play with them. He crawls into their beds at night and puts his clammy hands on their faces. I want to scream that he is there, but I can never say his name, because that makes him angry. He has a fierce temper and he doesn’t play nice. They said that he keeps children for a year and a day, but he kept me for six years. Sometimes, in the dark, I think he’s still there. I wan...
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In my dream, my father lies belly up on the floor of a supermarket–perhaps on his way to the chocolate aisle– capsized on the cold white-gray speckled linoleum under bright lights, out of place like a beached whale, bare skin under XXXL overalls and river sandals. Yet he doesn’t seem concerned with righting himself. I sense that he has lost his dignity, but I don’t know what this means. I just hear the word “dignity,” as if he’s thinking it. I want to...
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“I run down the street screaming and crying,” my sister says. “Me, too,” I say, “like a lunatic.” I smile, as well as I can. What’s wrong with running out your pain under the moon? I appreciate the connection between la luna and lunacy. Don’t we all need that cyclic opportunity to shed the old blood, or the bad blood, or whatever else weighs us down, and begin anew? Ann imagines her father as she confesses this “crazy” behavior. I tr...
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Version 1
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The Irish say that the bogeyman is a type of faerie who lives in the bog and kidnaps children so he can play with them. They say that he keeps them a year and a day. He kept me for six years. I didn’t grow up with my father, Lance, my favorite of my mother’s friends. I grew up with Ann’s father, whom I called Dad for the first seven years of my life, those years when children believe in magic and bogeymen. He stands only five feet, eight inches tall, but his shadow stretches...
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Version 1
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In my dream, my father lies belly up on the floor of a supermarket, perhaps on his way to the chocolate aisle. He appears heavier, larger than I have ever seen him. He lies capsized on the cold white-grey speckled linoleum under bright lights, out of place like a beached whale, bare skin under XXXL overalls and river sandals. He doesn’t seem concerned with righting himself. I sense that he has lost his dignity, but I don’t know what this means. I just hear the word “dignity,...
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I would recommend a few grammar tweaks, but otherwise, your rant is inspired and passionate as it stands. A couple of places where an apostrophe would go: first paragraph: the child's nose is runny third paragraph: everything's okay Add some commas: first paragraph: "another way, another time, another place, another chance to interject a new face." I would break some long sentences into two for added clarity. For example: first paragraph: The tears of the unmade mummy, as the killer paints th...
50.0% Review Quality (2 Votes)
There is something here, but I'm getting stuck on the word "mirrors." With "channeled energy" on one side and "frustrations" on the other, something like "fuels" or "focuses" would make more sense to me. Also, spell-check tells me to drop one 'l' in channeled.
I'm just going to write what comes to mind as I read this. I would say it's troubling not to "wonder" how many people can see them, but to "know" how many people can see them for what they are. The cold makes the scars show. And perhaps the cold makes you shiver as you wonder how many people recognize those scars; And shiver as you remember how the scars got there and why. Denying the scars denies the pain of the experiences that led to them. The friend reaches out to bring the experiences to...
Right off, I like this. It's moody and questioning. I get the loss or disappointment easily enough, but I sense a deeper meaning in riddles and I want to read again and figure it out. The object of desire is missing, as in missing shoes and hangars, but yet the subject is "passing the glass your way." So I'm a bit confused, at least after the first read. The missing is not the physical person, but something more meaningful, that maybe never existed except in the subject's mind? I don't have a...
100.0% Review Quality (2 Votes)
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