short stories
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I remember the first time I received charity. Which, in my mind, was considered a handout. That’s what my father would call it. Someone in my community had nominated me. I received notification by mail with scarce information. It felt like a covert operation. It felt wrong. Only date, time, and location to receive…
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This new infernal way of life will bring a quicker and crueler end than anticipated. I will die in the way I feared most. And when that truth settled over me, I felt a calmness not experienced before that shows me Jesus is real. It’s the only hope I can grasp amongst this apathetic society.…
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He couldn’t resist loudly pointing out every flaw he could find in her. Each negative comment seemed to give him a twisted sense of satisfaction, a proud, almost childlike glee on his face. He reveled in his harsh judgments, like a parent admiring their newborn, except his admiration was for his own cruel observations. He…
Matilda's Fugue 