Life In One Word

From the Fifth Tri-Short Story Collection Death In Years, Years In Life

Sometimes we are so busy fighting against the wrong things that the things we should be battling we have no energy for; those things and people we should grow closer to and embrace we keep them away.

January 1st and New Year’s resolution day and, even though I vowed to keep that one major resolution in breaking up and trying to end a relationship, there I was still connected, still suffocating, still living and dying in the arms of my lover, depression, like a prey trapped in the talons of an eagle.

“But why can’t I be free?” I asked Noah.

“Maybe you’re looking for happiness in the wrong things and people. Jim, you have all that you want.”

“But not the one thing I need. Talking about it doesn’t help. Writing about it doesn’t help.”

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I feel useless.”

“Are you?”

“I feel hopeless because the world is hopeless. Life is killing me.”

“What is life in one word?” I sat there thinking, not sure what it was. “Well?” Noah asked. “If you don’t know what’s making you depressed, you’ll never begin to heal.”

“God, why have you forsaken me?”

“Has he?”

“I feel so lonely.”

“Then I as your friend being here doesn’t count? What you focus on defines your life. People don’t have to believe in you for you to believe in yourself. God has given you a splendid gift, life.”

“But why is it filled with so much pain and sadness?”

“Don’t we fill it ourselves with the help of others who are good and bad? I know we can’t snap our fingers and depression disappears, neither can we wave a wand and, poof, it goes away. But healing doesn’t begin with a pill or seeing a shrink. It begins with you making up in your heart and mind that you need help.”

“Are you sure you’re in the right profession?”


“You sound like a doctor of the mind.”

“No, just your friend,” he said, laughing.

“What’s life in one word? Hmm, complicated.”

This story is an original idea written by me.© Thanks for reading.

See you next Tuesday, God willing. 🙂

First story Death By Anger







Death By Anger

From the Fifth Tri-Short Story Collection Death In Years, Years In Life

I did not feel any love when they put him in the ground. No love. Just hate. Yeah, he was my father but that emotion for him died a long time ago. Death by anger. The last two years of my father’s life was spent with silence between us.

“Ishmael, please talk to your father,” my mother said. “Say something to him. He told you that he was sorry.”

“Yes, but he has not shown it,” I said. “How could he have an affair and another child?”

“It’s over,” she said.

“And that is what he regrets,” I said as I walked away. I did not want to hear her. I loved her too much to be mad at her. But I could not listen to her trying to defend him.

Before I found out what he did, my father and I had a wonderful relationship. We hung out together. He taught me how to play basketball, and we played that a lot. But what he did took away my joy. Around people I smiled. But I was not happy. I laughed. But I was hurting. It cut too deep, and even his death did not heal the wound.

I know God says to forgive. But I cannot. One day I hope to so I can have . . . peace.

This story is an original idea written by me.© Thanks for reading.

See you next Tuesday, God willing. 🙂

Flowers Out Of Concrete

From the Fourth Tri- Short Story Collection Woe-Man

Jacob watched his daughter everyday as she struggled to get back to the lively and happy person she was before. And even though he was trying to help, he felt it was not doing much good. He wanted to kill the bastard that raped his fourteen-year-old daughter. But he knew murder would only add to his family’s turmoil. He also knew vengeance was God’s doing. He hoped that he would not take long in giving it out.

Tammy lost her appetite for food. Her once healthy body was becoming like a telephone pole in a hurricane waiting to be broken. Her depression grew deeper, and so did her fear. Her fear of any young man that she came across heightened her anxiety. She did not want to put all of them in a same basket called Do Not Trust, but she felt she had no control over it.

So she was surprised when her older sister by seven years brought her boyfriend over to dinner. When she saw him, she ran back upstairs and into her room. “Fear, I hate you,” she said as she began to cry into her pillow.

Her father knocked on her door and asked to come in. She got up and, running to him, hugged the only parent that was still alive.

“Dad, will it ever be okay?”

“Tammy, I wish there was a place with no pain. But earth is not heaven. I do not know when it will be okay again, but it will be.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Because one day we will get to a point where we no longer hate our fears,” he said as he released her.

“You’re also hating fear? Why?”

“I do not like how it makes me feel, how it makes me powerless. He raped you, and fear stayed. I feel like I am not helping you.”

“But, dad, you are helping me. You’re my David when it comes to fighting my Goliath. Thank you. Thank God,” she said hugging him again.

Jacob wiped away a tear that slowly began to creep down his face. At that moment, her sister came in and gave her a hug.

Tammy did not go down to dinner that night, nor for many nights when her sister’s boyfriend came over. Even though he knew the reason for it, he still felt like he was doing something wrong. So it was a major surprise to him when one night she came down and gave him a hug. She then looked at her dad and said, “Dad, I just took the first step into that day where I’ll get to a point where I’ll no longer hate my fear. Let’s be flowers out of concrete.”

This story is an original idea written by me.© Thanks for reading.

See you next Tuesday, God willing. 🙂

First story Woman 24 Hours

Second story Human Problems