Short Story-Fiction
3:01am, Mountain Time
[CN: imagery of difficulty breathing; grief and loss] I wake with a startle and notice it is here. The shadow looms over me, watching. Waiting. I plead with the whites of its eyes to leave me be; to find me on a different night. Or never again. It ignores my bargaining.
Living the Dream
The air is sticky and humid, the ground rain-soaked and muddy. I careen down a hillside on my mountain bike, applying brakes where needed, splashing through shallow puddles, avoiding sheer drops off trail edges. I kick out dirt behind and beside me as I twist, skid, and jump. My face and hands are mud-speckled; my clothes, splattered; my bike frame, gleefully muck-sprayed from head to tail. I slow my pace to a halt as my friends catch up. We gulp water, wipe sweat, laugh and rib each other. They’re impressed with my thrill-seeking on this trail they know well. It’s my first time, but I ride with abandon. I always…
Colour-Conscious
No matter how hard you try, you will not see colour the way I do. You see with vision; through eyes with optic nerves carrying signals along pathways to occipital brain matter. I don’t see it that simply. I’m sensory elevated. I am colour- conscious.