dark times ahead
short stories Amber Stanza short stories Amber Stanza

dark times ahead

I’m trying not to let it get to me. It gets to me. Luxury is just dread in a costume and so to make me feel better, sometimes I will pretend I have the money to let me worry about the things that no one else does; treat things the way everyone else does.

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gone fishing
poetry, short stories Amber Stanza poetry, short stories Amber Stanza

gone fishing

It’s an inherently selfish thing to be sad. To sit in the bathtub all evening and to light up a cigarette and to willingly fade away. To run the water too hot just to burn from the outside in.

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Jigsaw
journal, short stories Amber Stanza journal, short stories Amber Stanza

Jigsaw

My dreams are potent at the moment. I suppose that's what I get for not sleeping until 3.30 and then waking up at 6 every day: constantly opening my eyelids mid-dream so that for the rest of the day, my life is stained by a jigsaw of abstract images.

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South
journal, short stories Amber Stanza journal, short stories Amber Stanza

South

Welcome to London.

That's all I keep thinking as I hammer my finger into the pedestrian crossing button. I know it doesn’t do anything, but I like to imagine the city feels some pain at my disposal of street etiquette; wait for the lights to turn green, press the button once etcetera.

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East
short stories Amber Stanza short stories Amber Stanza

East

In the distance, the breakwaters surface irregularly. The intervals come and go; small shoals dashing to the surface. Way out there the water is much deeper- its touch barely reaches my toes. Insecure and cold, I bury my feet under the sand imitating the stretching miles of empty shells.

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Market
short stories Amber Stanza short stories Amber Stanza

Market

Warmth swelled up; a thick fog of colour and conversation binding like thread, winding through market isles until the air was bright. It was fine stitch work.

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