Alexander Emberson > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

There's a dead squirrel in the street.

In this living hell past the darkest pits where the cold grasps and drafts feed on those that wait. There is a mound home to a broken hilt that l..

Your eyes expressed to me the waning Crescent’s long departure, and though I held your shoulder I could not feel your pulse. Your vibrant ..

Wallpaper covered by paint.

"That'll kill you someday." "I know."

I offer you nothing that words cannot explain for themselves.

drink up little one.

How can I get to be like you?

A man must face his guilt after losing his brother's trial.

I don't think we know how real we all are.