Sciamachy by Dee

Sci·am·a·chy noun [sahy-amuh-kee]an act or instance of fighting a shadow or an imaginary enemy.

My enemy is ruthless. My enemy is full of spite.

My enemy is clever. My enemy is full of might.

The only sound in the room was the pounding of feet on the wooden floor and the harsh gasp of labored breathing. If it wasn’t for me she thought to herself, this room would be quiet… serene. Why am I disturbing its peace? This was of course exactly the sort of silly existentialist distraction that would probably get her killed someday. She shook her head as if her distractions were insects she was trying to frighten and tried to bring her focus back to the task at hand.  Continue reading

Noah by Dee

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

 He fiddles nervously with the lit cigarette, knowing he had to take a puff of it soon for appearance’s sake. He tried to inhale as little of it as possible but he is still uncomfortable with all those carcinogens hanging out in his mouth. Noah was on the wrong side of fifty to be taking stupid risks, but cigarette breaks were the only excuse he could think of to escape the insanity inside the club for a few minutes. So he tried to breathe in as little smoke as possible while enjoying the peace and quiet of a dark alley smelling comfortingly of stale cabbage.  Continue reading

Smoke by Dee

That was the first thing you noticed. The City still smoldered. No matter how long it had been since Before, hundreds of years, some even said thousands, the embers of the fires that had destroyed the old world still lived here. The City was a relic of a place that had lived and died so long ago that even its name was lost to time. She had heard it said that once upon a time this place was a center of culture and commerce. Some said that it had lain near a river, others said on an ocean. Continue reading

Revolution by Dee

Every morning, from the warmth and comfort of my bed, I tell myself that today is the day. Today is the day I rise up and cast off the shackles I have allowed to be put on my soul. Today is the day I will make up for the moments of my silence, which I’ve let build up, until they smothered my voice completely. Today is the day I say no, I am not who you have decided for me to be: I am different, I am my own person, I share nothing with you, I reject your hatred, your misogyny, your fear, your bigotry. Today is the day I tell them that they’re the ones who are wrong.  Continue reading

Socks by Dee

Everyone comes into the world with a shared fear, the fear of being alone. Because being alone means that you don’t belong. The world was made to be shared with another. So you curl up together and hold each other close for fear that something will come to tear you apart, and you’ll never see one another again. And what will become of you then?  Continue reading

Birth by Dee

All my life there was only one thing I ever really wanted from my mother. I wanted her to sit me down and tell me how sorry she was for bringing me into this world. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to someone that’s worse than giving them life. What a horrible thing to do, taking a soul out of the peace of nonexistence and pushing them into misery, the both of you kicking and screaming all the while. For what? Survival of species and family lines. Social and emotional validation. Giving birth should be a crime.

Ink by Dee

Ink stains on her fingers. One would think she was still a scribe whiling away her hours in the safety of a musty library, not an exile roaming the deserts with the guns at her hips as the only true constant in her life. But then, Anne wasn’t like your every day Sinner. In fact, she wasn’t really a Sinner at all. Anne was Unmarked, one of the few born to every generation who never got the Sign that marked them as Sinner or Saint. She was also the first Unmarked anyone had heard of who chose to forsake the safety and comfort of a Saint’s life to wander in exile with the Sinners.  Continue reading

Nostalgia by Dee

I wake up to you wrapped around me warm and pliant with sleep. Your breath is hot and wet on my shoulder and my heart is breaking. So this is goodbye. Turning to face you shouldn’t hurt this bad. My hands on your face, and I brush kisses over every part. Your nose, your eyes, your cheekbones. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Your fingers tighten on my hips but I know that you can’t hold on. This is us, maybe for the last time, soft and drowsy, thigh to thigh and hip to hip.  Continue reading