Miranda D.
Bio
Beautiful people aren't born, they're created.
Stories (5/0)
You Make Your Own Luck
A thirty-four year old man sits wrapped in his scraps of clothing on a chilled winter night. He sits in a cold alley, nothing to eat, nothing to drink, no gloves, nor flames to warm his hands upon. He lets out a soft, yet heavy sigh and his warm carbon dioxide is visible in the air. He is shivering as he holds himself, and spies a shard of glass stuck in the snow beside him. As he pulls it out, he realizes it is the remnants of a broken mirror. He sees his reflection in the glass, a tired, ragged, unshaven man. “What have I done to my life?” He asks himself. “How have I turned into this man looking back at me?” Tears of some warmth enter his blue eyes, he rests his head back against the cold brick wall. And then he hears the shuffling of something slow. Someone helpless and weak. He moves the shard of mirror to the side of the brick wall and sees an elderly woman walking in the direction of his alley. She is very old, helpless, stumbles on each step while she holds her cane, and she is alone.
By Miranda D.5 years ago in Humans
The Time Between Time
The time between time. Is it some silly entity that ones mind never thinks of? Or maybe it’s fake, completely fake. Now think for a moment, it is 11:59 pm the very millisecond it turns into 12:00 am, there is a moment in-between the 11 and the 12.
By Miranda D.5 years ago in Poets
Arleigh's Plague
Arliegh was only twelve when her Daddy stopped breathing. Life was already hard for her mother and sister as it was, but after daddy left was when it really started to become difficult. She recalled before he died when the plague first got to him, how she and Joranne, her older sister would sit by the hot stove and watch as the physician soothed Daddy’s fever.
By Miranda D.5 years ago in Families