Category Archives: Short Story

Bluebeard’s Dead Little Dancer

I lay in your bed nightly, haunting your sleep as you feel

my breath forever with you.

Never to have another woman in your bed,

a tale that has been reversed

you have prevailed.

You admired my dances, from the audiences you awed, clapped and watched.

Capturing me with your heart I was yours forever to keep.

My feet

always moving for you.

Your bloody chamber, your gallery closet with the key you gave.

I was not to open your past and the things I have been told,

I was not to trust what others were to say, they

were the keys dangling before me.

You gave me all the other keys, the things

for me to trust.

The clinking of voices was the curiosity that lead me to your locked door.

I snuck in hoping you wouldn’t notice.

I had to know what it was that you kept from me.

The jangling of the voices telling me to hack and see.

My inner death was the loss of you.

My real death was the passing

of time that you still long for.

I linger and hang around

hoping you will notice my presence.

Hoping you call out to me, the moment

you call back

I can return from my grave of silence

and dance

for my Bluebeard

and change our ending.


Tea Mornings

“Baby wake up”
“If you wake up I’ll make you breakfast”
and finally a little stir. A grunt and a stretch and a wipe of the eyes,
I get a squint and a half smile that seems to echo the words of good morning without actually saying them. I kiss his cheek
in an effort to not disturb him too much,
give him the opportunity to stretch and yawn himself awake. “What
do you want for breakfast?” “Coffee or tea?”
A sly grin and that little hype in his voice I get “tea” for an answer and it’s in these moments
that I feel the warmth in my heart. As I shuffle off to make tea in a cup of my choosing
a few yawns and some whiffs of the brewing chai, I make
my way back to a white sheeted bed and the man of my dreams curled up in my sheets still half asleep. Taking in
the postcard in front of me
I dodder up to the bed “can you still up for me please?” and I present the steaming mug on top of his chest and into his capable hands.
Curled up next to him with a complimentary mug of my own, I get to
bask in the simplicty of a cup of tea in a bed with the right person and sun streaming through the slant of closed blinds and fluffy bed sheets.

Tater Tot Toes

I was freezing and my toes turned into frozen tater tots. I remember
nuzzling up to his furnace of a body telling him
in a whimper “I’m cold.”
No shirt, clean shaved chest
and sleepy, benevolent voice he told me “then put your feet under me love” as he adjusted his legs
to overlap my tiny toned calves. I never expected this answer. I seemed to wiggle my narrow size sixes into the fur of his muscular legs
as I tried not to shiver.
But as my teeth clattered and I continued to tremble, he told me to put on a shirt. I settled
into picking out my favorite, soft pajama pants that he chuckled at and
curled up into him and his arms
to use him as my own human shirt and protection from the rooms shadows to engulf us in dream world.

Room That I Love

Dark blue walls surround me. Warmth and positive sacred air radiates and bounces off the paint. Mirrors hung on the walls reflect pretty lines and works of masterpieces. Wooden barres line the perimeter. A smooth gray marley sprung floor demonstrates a cloudy sky to dance upon. I’m in room 130 in the Arts and letters building.

At first, this room last semester brought me anxiety; worried that I won’t fit in, that I would be judged, of fear of failure and lack of acceptance. Negative thoughts and feelings aren’t welcome in this space. Take off your shoes upon entering, you are now in a neutral sacred space. A space where you can dream, experiment and bring topics to light.

Now, all I feel in this room is an outlet for feeling. I can sit in here and dream of choreography and ideas to play with; of ways to make pretty lines, bring to light controversial ideas, and describe feelings that can only be demonstrated through movement. I can create anything in here. My wildest dreams can be made public, broken down and shared. This room is anything I want it to be.

The wooden barres bolted to wall are my stepping stones, my training tools. They are my training wheels to practice and perfect alignment and dynamic combinations. They allow me to ride my figurative bike one handed while doing a wheelie in the centre. Petite allegro consisting of brise, royale, entre chat trois, glissade and assemble I can’t help but just sit on the gray marley floor. I have to get up and explore the space. Barely anything in here to contribute to the space. There’s only the air and the stereo. A stereo that brings melody to everything. That guides our steps and stems inspiration. The only thing that needs to be in here is me and my thoughts.

Still new to this room, this is where memories are being made. This is where I have poured my soul out and sweated my butt off trying to get something to look elegant and perfect. The mirrors across the whole front of the room show my every flaw. They point out my mistakes and show how my alignment is incorrect. Smudges of hand prints, and even foot prints, decorate the reflective sheets.

There’s so much beauty in this small space. There’s no judgment here. It should be respected and viewed as sacred because nothing can go wrong here. Even the biggest mistake can turn into a masterpiece, a work of art. What we do in this room can bring so much pleasure, happiness and joy. It can also bring depression, pain and sadness in ways that only the body can fully express without words.

This isn’t just a room or a space. This is a whole new world ready to be created or destroyed. This is a dance studio. A dark blue room that radiates inspirational and dedicated hard work, this is room 130.

Leap of Faith

She was a young english professor. Not many students or other professors took her seriously because she looked so youthful. She couldn’t help that she was a child prodigy of a famous author either.

Since not many took a liking to the professor, she didn’t have many friends. After classes she usually went to the tall four story library in the city. It’s big glistening stained glass windows always seemed to beckon and welcome her when no one else did. The novels inside took her to worlds she could only imagine and visit until she was forced to turn the next page.

One day after grueling classes with illiterate and ungrateful college kids, she walked to her sanctuary at the library. On her way there she stopped into the next door hole-in-the-wall eclectic coffee shop. She needed her routine brewed tea before she could continue her trek to the library.

She had her own little reading spot; a niche in the wall next to a giant window three stories up. But as she walked over to her usual reading spot she caught the eye of a man. In all her years coming here, not once has she ever noticed this man before. She concluded that he must be new.

The young professor couldn’t help but notice his distracting figure. A thin button up did nothing to conceal the muscles stretching underneath such a thin piece of polyester. His thick black rimmed glasses only magnified the green flecked twinkling eyes that were hidden behind the lenses. This man was too attractive to not at least glance at him a few times. Of course she would never be able to approach him, but she could at least have eye candy couldn’t she? No harm in that.

The next few weeks he seemed to always be there at the same time and days she was. Not once did he ever look at her in the way she found herself gawking at him. It came down to the point where she would have to literally force her nose into a book so she wouldn’t stare like an obsessed love struck teenager. He was too distracting! His sleeves were always rolled up and his dark brown hair was always tousled, as if from being windblown. Yet, there wasn’t much air and wind flow in the city so she always tried to imagine what made his windblown hair so incredibly sexy looking.

One sunny afternoon in the library, as she sat in her niche desperately trying not to ogle at him, she noticed something different about the man. As if she was seeing his face clearly for the first time, she noticed the scruff of a beard.

“Did he always have that?”

“My God, was he always this irresistible?”

This man was the perfect bad boy gone geek. So cliche. How could she be fantasizing about a movie stereotype like him?

Then suddenly her world flipped.

One particular early evening as the professor approached her reading niche, sipping her foamy chai tea latte, she noticed a figure in her spot. How dare this individual! Enraged, the smallish woman tromped up to the conspirator. Yet, when she got close enough she noticed that the person who stole her spot wasn’t just anybody… It was HIM.

Now just two feet away from the horribly alluring man, for once in her life she was at a loss for words. Her anger suddenly depleted, fear overwhelmed her whole being. And not just any fear. But the fear you had when you were little and you stood in front of your mom as she looked at you with disappointment in her eyes; you had to somehow explain how you bit another kid at school on the playground at recess.

As she began fumble around for what to say to this man, he looked up from his book. Just as his green sparkling eyes locked with her dull blue irises, he threw her a this smirk. He cast her such a mischievous grin so that when the right side of his mouth curved upward, she caught a glimpse of a boyish little dimple in his cheek.

“Um… Uh… excuse me… but you’re in my spot.” she stammered.

“I know,” and again he threw her that smirk while chuckling, “you have something on your lip.”

She touched her upper lip and noticed that when she pulled her fingers away there was white foam on them.


Of all the possible worst times in her existence, the universe had to pick this one to give her a foam chai latte mustache! As quick as she could, she wiped her sleeve across her upper lip trying to erase the embarrassment that had also flushed red across her whole face. It was at this moment that she felt like she was going to cry.

Noticing her defeat, “I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend or embarrass you. Please don’t cry princess.”

Princess? Oh hell no! This man. Correction… this STRANGER, did not just call her princess!  She was NOT a child, no matter how small she felt at the moment. Quickly, her anger came flooding back with full force and she was ready to pounce this time.

“How dare you!” She screamed at him, “first you take my spot. Second you embarrass me. And now you call me ‘princess’ like a child!” 

Startled at the sudden rage coming out of this tiny woman he began to apologize again, “I’m so sorry but this was the only way I could think of to try and get you to talk to me.” 

“I see you here everyday at the same time with your nose buried in a book and I can’t help but notice the light from the window and the way it shine downs on you. It illuminates your golden hair and it makes it look like you have a halo… like an angel. I just need to know your name… please,” he finished.

Her cheeks flushed, “my name is Yelena.” 

With that devilish grin, he extended his hand, “my name is Bryce. Nice to finally meet you Yelena. Hey, I’d like to take you somewhere because I think you’d appreciate it. I know I’m a stranger. But, seeing you here day after day hardly makes us strangers anymore in my opinion. What do ya say?”

She thought to herself, “come on Yelena. He’s right. You know his name now and he seems harmless. You’ve gawked at him for months now. Take a leap of faith for once.”

“O.K. I’ve got nothing to lose, I’ll come with you,” she stated nervously to Bryce, still unsure why she’s agreeing to this.

At her agreement, Bryce shot up and took her by the hand and rushed her outside the library. Parked on the sidewalk just outside the revolving doors was a matte black 848 EVO Ducati super bike. That would explain the tousled hair!

As they approached the motorcycle Yelena tried to act cool. But the whole situation was giving her heart palpitations. Rested on the bike was a ruby red flamed, full- faced helmet. Bryce handed Yelena the helmet because despite her amazement that she was actually doing this, he expected her to get on it tandem with him.

With only a second of hesitation, she grabbed the ruby red helmet and slipped it over her blonde hair as Bryce started up the motorcycle. Once it was fired up, he turned around and flashed her that award wining grin again and told her to hop on.

One leg at a time she swung her right thigh over the opposite side of the bike. Trepidation, exhilaration, and anticipation urged through her whole body as she asked where he was taking her.

Bryce voiced over the purr of the engine, “it’s a surprise. But I guarantee you’ll love it.”

Yelena could hear the grin in his voice. Suddenly, he reached behind and grabbed her arms as he wrapped them around his waist, “hold on to me. It’s impossible to go slow on this thing.”

Once again… CLICHE! Jeez Yelena, this is right out of one of your books. 

With a soft twist, they were off. Her grip around Bryce’s waist tightened as she held on for dear life. This was her first time on a motorcycle. Let alone, on the back of a very fast one with a man she just met.

After a few minutes of her increasing death grip around Bryce’s waist, Yelena finally looked up at the road and loosened her grip. Pedestrians and cars zooming past her, she could feel the wind on her face through the helmet. The breeze blowing her blonde hair all over the place from where it escaped under the helmet Bryce gave her.

At a stop light, she couldn’t help herself anymore. She’s on the back of his bike after all, so she takes another leap. His shoulders so tense and muscular, she goes to touch them. Massaging every ripple and muscle, she hears a soft whimper escape from his lips before the light turns green again. And then they are off, bounding through street after street once again.

But then she opens her eyes and she’s no longer holding on to Bryce. There’s no cars or pedestrians flying by. No ruby red flamed helmet. The wind on her face is stronger now, more powerful. But there’s no black motorcycle in sight. One look below and the ground is over twenty five stories away.

People and cars look like glowing ants rushing and scattered about.

She’s not with Bryce…

She standing on the edge of a skyscraper getting ready to jump.

Realizing where she’s at, Yelena stumbles backward away from the edge gasping for air. “How did I end up here? It was all so real. I almost jumped!” 

But maybe all it takes is a leap of faith after all…

The next day, Yelena follows her usual routine of a chai tea and the library. After the night she had, all she needs is her tea and her niche to escape the world. But someone is there and that someone isn’t a stranger…

Checking that she doesn’t have a foam mustache, she heads over to the man that is occupying her spot by the window. He looks up at her, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to take your spot.” The man extends a hand out to her, “my name is Bryce. I thought I would join you.”

She shakes his warm gentle hand, “I’m Yelena. I would love the company.”

As she sits down next to Bryce she notices the ruby red, flamed motorcycle helmet resting next to him…

Not again.

Race to Erase

There was a little girl that thought she was the fastest kindergartener in the whole world.

She’d race the wind to class everyday.

Her blonde piggy tails would flap behind her as her over sized ladybug backpack bounced around on her smallish back.

When she got to the door to the class she’d turn around and yell,

Beat cha again! to no one in particular.

But this particular Autumn day when she walked into class, her friends challenged her.

They challenged her to a race.

She accepted this race immediately because in her head she was the fastest little girl ever.

But this wasn’t a relay like she thought.

This was a race to erase.

The rules were simple.

Her friends got two big pieces of paper and drew big black pencil marked squiggles on each white page.

The little boy that would go up against her and herself were both presented with a pink rubber eraser.

The goal was to see who erased all of it the fastest.

On the count of three she dragged her eraser across all the squiggles as fast as she could so she could finish before the little boy.

With one last drag across the smudged paper she yells,

DONE! Beat cha!

The little boy looks over and lets his shoulder sag with defeat.

Her little group of friends cheer her name and congratulate her on winning.

As she looks down on her almost clean paper, besides a smudge here or there, she sees that its relatively blank.

Immediately she begins to feel sad.

She felt bad for the little pink rubber eraser.

Half of it gone now.

Reduced to just the shards scattered on her paper.

She scraped all the rolled up little shreds and put them into a pile in the center of the blank page.

She didn’t realize the damage she had done.

She cried for destroying the helpless little eraser.

All it did was absorb big black mistakes for her.

And in turn, she rubbed the little guy out to practically nothing.

Just remnants of a perfectly whole thing, now in a million pieces.

She didn’t realize until years later that she wasn’t actually crying about her eraser that Autumn day in Kindergarten.

She cried because down the road, her life would be like that eraser.

Rubbed away to nothing over cleaning up someone else’s mistakes.

The damage done, not realized until all the little pieces of herself were just little rubber remnants scattered over a blank page.

The race to erase finally over…


Now I Understand



8076469-208-k129957There was once a girl named Erin. She was a short petite girl with dark red hair and big green eyes that always seemed to sparkle. She lived the typical American girls life. Her daddy was the towns carpenter and everyone is town called him to fix the little things in their houses to keep them “ship shape” as he would say. Her mum was gorgeous. She stood out in any crowd and everyone in town loved her. She must of been born with that motherly persona because she was the most caring person you could imagine.

Everyone in town told Erin how lucky she is to have such a great family and lifestyle at the age of 5 though at that age she never fully understood why. She was just happy to be herself but luck wasn’t in her vocabulary yet at her young age. Yet she knew she looked exactly like her beautiful mum and her daddy was always compared to a knight. With his handsome looks and charming personality everything in Erin’s life was perfect.

Living on the country side of town always had it’s advantages, and Erin just loved to go out to the barn at the wee hours in the morning to get a glimpse of the sunrise. She would climb up as far as her little legs would take her and she would sit on top and just stare into the distance. With the slight breeze ruffling her hair and the suns extravagant colors reflecting in her green eyes just the smell in the crisp morning air told Erin that Autumn was finally here.

With Autumn finally arriving and the leaves in the valley changing colors the carnival would soon come too. Every year Erin’s daddy and her mum would take her to the carnival to ride a camel and get a blue and pink cotton candy. It was her favorite thing in the whole wide world besides her mums homemade cranberry pie. YUMMY! Just thinking about the cotton candy and the pie melting in her mouth made her wee tummy rumble.

On her skip back to her house Erin took the opportunity to say good morning to her fat piggy Mr. Wiggly and her filly Snowflake. As this was always the routine for Erin. Sooner then later as Erin was approaching her front door she heard yells and screams just beyond that cherry colored door. Timid to open the door she slowly twisted the handle and walked in just in time for the screams to stop and her daddy walking away with her beautiful mum on the kitchen floor with her face in her hands and tears streaming down her face. Her five year old instinct kicked in as she rushed over to her mum on the floor and hugged her as hard as she could as she asked if she was ok. Without realizing Erin heard some of the screams her mum wiped her face hastily stood up and reached a hand out to Erin to help her stand up and then walked away.

Erin knew better at 5 years old then to push her mum for more information since she probably wouldn’t understand anyways. So all Erin could do was continue on with her day and get ready for school. You see as smart as Erin was she was able to skip kindergarten and go straight to first grade. Her daddy told her she was special and unique and different than other kids. Yet, she never fully understood that because all the other kids looked just like her. So how could SHE be special and not the other kids her age?

Some weeks went by without another mysterious incident occurring with her mum and daddy so everything seemed normal until that chilly Thursday morning. As Erin poured her Frosted Flakes into her favorite checkered bowl her mum walked out of her room in her usual jeans and comfy peach sweater she always wore on chilly mornings. Usually daddy would be following right behind her with his razor as he trimmed up his stubble on the way to the morning table to read the towns paper. But daddy was nowhere to be found behind mum…

As mum grabbed the milk out of the fridge for Erin she placed it on the table next to the checkered bowl and sat down with her hands holding her head.

Mum where’s daddy? Said Erin with curiosity in her squeeky five year old voice.

Oh. Daddy won’t be eating breakfast with us this morning honey. He had to leave early to go to work. We will see him for supper. She said this with such tiredness and exhaustion in her voice that she didn’t even look at Erin as she was talking to her like she usually does in the morning and Erin knew something was wrong…

Erin slowly pushed the chair away from the table and her Frosted Flakes and went to her mum and just hugged her. And instead of getting up and walking away like she did a few weeks ago her mum embraced Erin and began to weep in her school shirt. Worried, Erin asked if her mum was OK only to have her mum pull away and look her in the eyes. She sniffled as Erin gasped as she saw the huge black and blue bruise under her gorgeous mothers right eye. Before Erin could say anything more after what she saw, her mum gently kisses her on the forehead, gets up, and walks away with only saying Have a good day at school with sorrow in her voice and her backed turned, as she once again disappears to another place in the house.

School was normal for the rest of the day. Erin had her cheddar goldfishies at snack time and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with an apple for lunch. Compared to her morning, things were Ok and she knew tonight the carnival opened! She was already planning to wear her green sweater with the sparkles on the sleeves and her warmest jeans for when she went on the twirl-n-whirl with her daddy.

As school let out she ran home as fast as she could so she could say hi to Mr. Wiggly and Snowflake and do her adding and subtracting homework on the porch that her teacher assigned her for the night. Once finished with her measily homework she whizzed through she saw daddy pull up the drive way in his navy blue pickup truck with his usual smile on his face. With mum in the passenger seat smiling it looked like the black and blue under her eye was gone. It seemed like a miracle to Erin at how fast her boo-boo went away. Only what Erin didn’t understand at five years old is that makeup can work wonders to hide bruises…

She jumped off the porch like everything was normal as she ran to greet her parents as they waltzed up the rock covered driveway holding hands. Maybe the people in town were right. Erin was “lucky” she had such a great life.

Guess what today is sweetheart! Her daddy said with a cheerful voice.

THE CARNIVAL!!!! Screeched Erin with all the excitedness she had.

That’s right hunny said her mom and that’s where we are taking you tonight because you have been such a good girl lately!

Now Erin was excited. She gave both her parents a big hug before running up stairs to change into her green sparkly sweater and warm jeans. She always had trouble braiding her hair and she has been practicing it for a while now but she wanted to look good tonight for the carnival so she crossed the hall to ask her mum to do it for her. With a light tap on the white wooded door she asked for permission to come in and ask her mum a question.

Mummy, could you pretty please with sprinkles on top braid my hair like you always do? I don’t want it coming out on the twirl-n-whirl with daddy.

Of course Erin, come sit up on the dresser and I’ll make you look like a princess.

As soon as daddy was finished getting ready and mum and Erin were set they were off like a heard of turtles to the Autumn carnival. And boy, Erin was looking forward to this night all Summer!

Pulling up to the carnival in her daddy’s pickup truck and her mum in the front seat holding her daddy’s hand Erin was in a five year olds paradise. All night she went around with a smile on her face. She got her favorite pink and blue cotton candy that she was looking forward to and rode the twirl-n-whirl with her daddy. She laughed and screamed in joy as the powerful forces of the ride whipped her around. She even went on the ferris wheel with her mum and watched all the pretty carnival lights shimmer and glitter from down below. She could of been the happiest girl alive that night. It was only on the ride home that her precious childhood was about to crumble to pieces…

Exhausted from the night it was past Erin’s bedtime as her daddy carried her to the pickup in the carnivals parking lot. He layed her down softly in the back seat buckled her in. The drive home took longer than usual tonight because of the traffic flowing from out of the carnival. But they were almost home when Erin was awaken by her mum and daddy arguing. To this day she’s not quite sure what the argument was about but it’s a fight she could never forget. All she remembers are a few things her mum n daddy said like her mum yelled you promised! And her daddy saying I’m done with you and calling her a redheaded whore. They said worse things to each other but Erin tried to forget what she heard because it scared her.

They were still arguing when her daddy pulled up to the driveway and mum unbuckled Erin and carried her inside. The night is somewhat of a blur but the clearest part of the night was when Erin’s mum called daddy a dirty greedy bastard and he hit her. She was still holding Erin when she was struck across the face and then Erin noticed the same bruise from that same morning and another one forming across her left cheek now. At this point little Erin was wide awake and scared for her life. She has never seen her daddy angry and her mum has never called her daddy such a mean name. There were two different people from the normal parents she had that were always smiling and holding

Her mom yelled at Erin to run to her room and hide in the closet and lock the door. Erin did what she was told and ran as fast as her little legs would carry her and locked the door behind her and dashed into the closet holding her stuffed kitty Snuggles. Tears fell from her little glistening green eyes as she finally saw that things weren’t the same. From beyond that locked white wooden door she heard things falling to the floor and shattering into pieces. She heard more nasty things screamed and yelled that made her flinch and squeeze Snuggles really tight with her little fists. Her knuckles were white. If Snuggles were a real kitty instead of a stuffed one then I don’t think he would be alive because Erin was squeezing him so tight. At five years old it’s hard to comprehend what exactly was going on. Especially since Erin has never seen daddy and mummy act like this before. Just when there was another crash to the floor there was complete utter silence all of a sudden. Just then, Erin had enough courage to get up shakily from the confines of her closet and slink to the door with Snuggles clutched to her chest. Slowly she twisted the handle to her door to look for either her daddy or mummy. But she didn’t see anything. She felt brave enough to open the white wooden door just a wee bit more to see all the things that were broken on her floor. Vases, family pictures, dishes… Mummy would be mad to see her favorite china dishes in pieces on the floor. This won’t be good.

Erin eventually stepped out of her room and went to go look for her parents. As she was tiptoeing around the broken objects that layered the floor she stepped in something sticky and red. Why would strawberry jelly be all over the floor? But wait… Only a few feet away from the thought to be strawberry jelly was her daddy laying next to it and her mum sobbing so hard it was silent.

There was a kitchen knife laying next to her weeping mum.

Mummyyyyyy……???? What happened? Erin said with curiousity and fear in her voice.

All her mum did was continue to sob and say I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.


It’s years later and I’m now all grown up. I still have dark red hair and big green eyes. But now those eyes have seen many things. My life has changed and I am no longer that little innocent five year old on a farm with a happy family. History has ways of repeating itself. Boyfriends cheat and husbands have affairs. Family members suffer and there are always stories of abuse running through the neighborhoods. My life took a complete turn around when my mum stabbed daddy. My life started changing the moment my mum knew about the “other lady”. I’m not so lucky I grew up like this. But today is the 6th year that I bring a cotton candy to my mum at the state prision. With tears in my eyes I put Snuggles, all torn and wore and discolored into the bottom of my purse. A security blanket I never got rid of. I never got the whole story about what happened to mum and daddy but what I could get out of mum was that daddy had an affair and accused her of his lack of feelings and was abusive. The details of that night are all fuzzy but I will always remember that fear from when I was hiding in my little secluded closet. I will never forget what my daddy’s blood looked like or the look on mums face when she had to defend herself and in court and get accused of murder instead of self defense… I understand now.

And now I understand why I don’t trust men to this day.

Now I understand that makeup can hide bruises and scars.

Now I understand why I don’t believe in luck.

Now I understand why my mum killed daddy for self defense and why she’s in jail today.

Now I understand why daddy called me special and unique.

And now YOU understand my story.