Memories.

Outside, sat an old oak tree

Gnarled and twisty as can be

I hugged him for good luck and

sat under the crooked branches during the storms

He smiled when the rain pelted his leaves

Enjoying the earthy water from the clouds

A blessing, it was!

To watch the old oak tree absorb

the essence of life and revitalize

Its leaves birthed bright green

Its trunk richly brown and healthy as the wet soil

During winter, he grew old again,

Angry and resentful with no leaves to hide the scars

I still sat there though with roots under my bottom

I still whispered my secrets through the hollow hole of his trunk

and giggled at my echo.

He was sad,

missing the presence of the boy who used to sit upon his largest branch

The one with the laugh as warm as the sun rays in May

My brother, who loved the tree fiercely,

Now watched us from another branch,

somewhere deep in the sky.

Happy New Moon

It was so beautiful,

The tale the moon told the stars

Of how the Universe separated her from

Her love

For if they were to be together,

The world would be no more

She told them that the day would come

For them to be one

When time and space cease to exist

They would be together

resting on the clouds,

absorbing the silence

And the stars sighed with longing

For they could feel her yearning for him,

The Sun

Dream Series: Volume 2

“Are you psychic?”

“No, just highly intuitive. My dreams tell me things, I think. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try. Tell me about your most recent dream.”

“Well, it was gray outside and the sky had an odd blue tint to it. I was standing outside on some random street with my friends standing nearby. It started to rain heavily. When I  looked behind me I saw a massive 100 ft wave, towering over all of us. Scared to death, I ran into the nearest house and shut the door. When I opened the door back up a moment later, the water was up to the top of the house and my friends were stuck in the water, frightened and in a state of shock. It was disturbing to say the least. The next day, I saw the news about the hurricane coming.”

“What does that mean?”

“That we angered her, mother nature. And this is when she gets revenge. I think she was warning me.”

Dream Series: Volume 1

Dear Diary,

I had the dream again.

This time I was in my bathroom and it was huge, about twice its normal size. And I was dancing with a bunch of strangers. We were having a legit party in the bathroom and it grew larger as people kept running in. It felt liberating and real but also bizarre. There was something clearly off about the whole thing. And then I saw him.

My great-grandpa. He appeared, saying something that I could not quite make out. His lips moved but no sound came from him. It was strange, seeing how he died 4 years ago in his sleep. I wasn’t able to see him before it happened but we were very close. So I wasn’t afraid when I saw his spirit but I was alarmed and curious. What was he doing there?

I thought maybe my mind conjured him up from a memory. It’s hard to explain but I believe that when I dream my mind travels from the earthly plane to a different realm created by my subconscious. The realm is like an alternate universe with different memories from my past meshed together. So each night,  my subconscious literally astral projects into its own created dream world. And last night, my grandpa came to visit me there.

It’s strange, yes, but I love the mystery of it all.

Privacy.

**Warning: The following story is graphic. Viewer Discretion is advised.**

Aries peered through the glass of her window and watched sheets of rain pour steadily from the sky. The wind was so strong that it blew the rain sideways and caused the trees to sway dangerously close to the ground. Hard splatters of rain pelted her window, while lightening strikes flashed repeatedly.  A storm was coming.

She braced herself for the loud crackle of thunder that sounded the sky and snuggled deeper into her seat. It was a cushioned bench built into the window – the perfect place to stretch out, read a book and watch nature. She enjoyed fiction stories the most as she was able to escape reality and become lost in the wildness of the characters’ lives. For a story to truly wet her tastebuds, it had to be haunting, intriguing and lustful. The story she currently read was about a dangerous sex cult – it was freaky and downright evil – and she couldn’t stop herself from being absorbed into the story.

As Aries turned the next page, she found her hand sliding beneath her silk robe to her naked thighs. Her hand moistened with heat as it hovered above the sweet fruit of her folds. She used her other hand to turn the book over and then gently toyed with her nipple, pulling and tugging the pebbled flesh until tears stung her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and began to stroke her bud. Her eyelids slid close and her third eye opened, awakening the strength of the other four senses. The eye swept through her thoughts for haunting memories and landed on a recent rendezvous with the owner of her favorite bookstore.

Suddenly, his phantom hands sprung from her memory and began to rub all over body. As his nails dug into the flesh of her arms, her fingers stroked furiously, causing her bud to harden under the intrusion. Her third eye grew wider, bringing more sensations from her memory to life; she was now in the healthy living section of the bookstore, bent over the love seat, moaning the name of the owner as he growled behind her. She cried out as his phantom hands slid to her root chakra and caressed it in slow agonizing circles.

Her body convulsed and stiffened as pleasure waves rippled from her crown to her toes. Her head lolled to one side and rested against the cool surface of the rain-battered window. She squinted her eyes open, allowing her third eye to close gracefully, and the hands to slither back into her memories. As her teeth released their grip on her bottom lip, her tongue slid across the chafed skin and tasted fresh blood. She took her finger off of her now sensitive bud, swiped her lip and gazed at the dark red blood before popping her finger into her mouth to taste.

“Mmmm…” she moaned. The taste was ripe and tart like a raspberry. She smiled darkly to herself and turned the book back over, picking up where she left off. Stormy days were truly her favorite.

The End. 

Photo Credit: @urbansocietyy