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Four times a day,
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get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
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Write. Now.
Michael was sweating.

It happened every night at around 0230.

He felt the urge to flip directions in his bed; he felt them peering in at him through frost bordered windows.

Ever since he met his upstairs neighbors, he knew they followed his steps. Everywhere h(more)
The dance of shadows
Around the room
Nightmares surrounding
The clock ticks forward
But morning never comes.
dance of shadows on
cave wall, thrown there jittering
by this new thing, fire
     'My name is Dalton Byrd. I am not normal.' Those were the first words I typed when they decided to put me in front of a computer. Fifteen years of little speech left me with much to say, and now my fingers began to tremble as I forced(more)
There are only so many chances
to see the dance of the shadows
perhaps in the embers of dying love
or the blank canvas of solitude
the stirring of leaves in the gutters
crunching,  scratching the cement (more)