Quill's Secret To Writing: Old Dance Moms Reruns

by Michael Dees

I just wanna get out of my head and find peace

“Mine the long night The secret place Where lovers meet In long embrace In purple dark In silvered kiss Forget the world And grasp your bliss” - A.S. Byatt, Possession

Racist people 🤬🤬🤬🤬

froqueen_

A Journey, New Home

In front of me are two steps.

Once taken, two more appear.

Will there ever be

more than two

visible at one time?

Behind me is one step.

On a road I already walked.

Will that step

be any different

if I took it now?

I know what I already walked.

I can strain to see what I have yet to traverse.

Is it better to retreat to the known

when I see one step further

in the unexplored?

Forever Writng

quill rose

Amelie

In a cinderblock bathroom an hour’s bus ride out of the inner-city, there’s a full-length aluminum mirror hanging by two screws. Unrelenting rain pounded on the roof as a girl, twelve, peered into it. Her arms shook, weak from the exhaustion of pulling her way up cliffs. Amelie was on a hiking field trip with her quirky charter school, who believed that traipsing through forests during a spring rain storm was more of a teacher than a chalkboard. The laces of her only pair of tennis shoes lay untied, dripping with mud, but her fingers had grown too icy in the rain to tie them up again. The hem of her jeans was torn where another student had stepped on it while Amelie helped them up a ledge. Her only jacket was dripping onto the floor and torn in several places from burrs and the scrapes of passing sticks. Luckily, Amelie’s shirt was unharmed, but was too flimsy to stop the creep of cold from chilling her to the bone. Her stringy curls would certainly take hours to untangle. Amelie shivered, and looked into her own eyes. Truly the star of the entire appearance was Amelie’s wide grin and the bright, wild look in her eyes that only true adventure could bring.

Forever Writing,

quill rose