This is part of an exercise we did in class where each of us wrote a monologue of a character attending a cruise to celebrate
The floor of our minivan was covered in sheets of paper, a sea of black stars and pentagrams. I smoothed the creases of my black
Another thought, another mood Another swing, and angry again. For nothing. People remain confused By me. It’s complicated, it twists ’round It misleads. I think
George Maxwell was up at four in the morning again. He pulled his pale, lumpen frame out of bed and shuffled towards the walk-in shower.
Rise, my siblings and my people and my friends. Take your hammers, your crowbars, and your fists and beat the mortar to dust beneath your
A few tables across from me, among friends, sat a gentleman of modest height and of slender build, he wore blue denim and a baggy