Photo by Anaya Katlego

“Son, pass me the screwdriver,” from the top of the ladder, Billy’s dad reached his hand back expectantly.

What a funny thing to ask for, Billy thought to himself. He walked away and went into the kitchen.

Billy didn’t have to think too hard about it. A screwdriver was simple. He grabbed ice, the orange juice from the refrigerator, and vodka from his father’s liquor cabinet. Billy freehanded the whole thing, a little smile formed as he topped the glass with just a pinch of extra alcohol.

Oh, Billy paused just before he walked out of the door — he…


what if I never write again?
the internal humdrum of the mind derives my facilities.
a place I never want to go,
yet crave on a hazy day.

what if…


Photo by Alternate Skate

Charlie used to fly down hills on his skateboard.

50 miles per hour.

60 miles per hour.

He’d once been clocked going 77.3 miles per hour. That’s the fastest he’d ever gone, which is fast. Faster than most people — skateboarders even — will go in their lives.

Then Charlie found his wife and together they had a beautiful daughter. He was out on the hills less and less. Then, a point came where he wouldn’t race at all. He’d just go and watch.

Some kids came up to him one day and said, “Hey, you’re Charlie. You’re a legend…


Photo by Barry Riela on Unsplash

The mediocrity of life scared Frank more than anything in the world. It scared him more than his piling credit card debt. More than the thought of being alone. And even more than the guy who lived next door that Frank was convinced was a serial killer.

So, that day, Frank wrote his letter of resignation, left his office, and stepped out of the building.

He looked around. The bustling city street resembled a collective of people that had more going on than Frank ever would.

Where was everyone going?

Frank had no idea. …


Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

In a moment of panic, Julian let out a scream that echoed into the darkness of the night. The sound vanishing before it could make it to the ether. The roar of the ocean drowned the boy’s cry to the other people on board the cruise ship.

As Julian plunged into the ocean depths, he noticed the cold paralyzing his body. The minute or so — he couldn’t tell — of frantic wailing at the surface was over. He was being pulled under. There was a serenity to it, a moment of calm before his death.

Julian closed his eyes.


Photo by Rémi Müller on Unsplash

Luke let out a long, hearty sigh as he gave the lawnmower a push up the hill. One of the most mundane tasks he could think of, being done on a Monday no less — the most tiresome day of the week, at least Luke thought.

The teen felt the dewy grass against the edges of his feet. When he was much younger, his father always told him to mow the lawn with shoes on.

“If you’re not paying attention, boom, there go all your toes!” his dad would exclaim.

Luke used to take it to heart, but he wasn’t…


Photo by Bonnie Kittle on Unsplash

I’m six years old again, out in my front yard, following a roly poly along the edge of the sidewalk that meets the grass.

We crawl together towards the fence. I stare intently, eyeing where my new found friend will go once he gets to the junction. He stops at the edge and makes a gesture towards either direction.

Will he turn into the fence and stay in the comfort of the yard which he’s grown, or go around and venture into the unknown?

The roly poly starts to go around. So, I stop him. I don’t want him to…


Photo by Andy Li on Unsplash

I find that my mind is always on edge. New thoughts spinning in the stratosphere of my simple yet complex brain. Neurons firing through a synapse. Then another. Then another. Until I lose them altogether. I’ll tell you something. If I were a poet, I’d write in red ink. It’s far easier to read than blue.

Did you know that there’s roughly 1.5 gallons, or 5.678 liters, of blood in a human body?

My knuckles are all bruised and sore. Now and then, I get to see them. It’s all too dark to tell what’s what anymore. From the recesses…

Parnell Piano

From California. Lives in Asia. Writes sometimes.

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