Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Confessions.
Christmas Lights
I couldn’t help but notice as I walked by your house this morning that you still haven’t taken down the Christmas lights we put up together. It’s the middle of January, for God’s sake. Why are they still on your windowsill, glowing brightly during the night as if the holiday of cheer hasn’t already passed? Is it because you want to remember us? All of the things we did together? All of our Christmas memories and nostalgia? If that’s the case, then why did you break up with me in the first place? If you’re so sad about the fact that we’re over, why did you end it? You leaving those lights up on your windowsill is not helping at all. Take them down. Move on from the way things used to be. Turn them off so I don't have to see them from across my street anymore.
By Jamie Lammers5 years ago in Confessions
The Foolishness of the Lake
The rays of the sun reflected off the lake surface, in shimmering, brilliant strands. The group of girls stood near the pond, changing into swim clothing after the long hike and horse ride down the path through the woods. The lake was not swimmable, for the water was too murky, too dirty. Not from pollution though, just a natural murky, mud filled lake-hole. While the sun shone brightly on it, and the reflection of the surrounding trees was gorgeous, the water itself stank of fish and dirt and sludge.
By Michelle Devon5 years ago in Confessions
A Letter to a Friend
Dear Friend: Look, we need to talk. I took in what happened the other day, when you looked in the mirror and said you hated yourself. Maybe you were only talking about the way you looked, I don’t know, but it sure felt a lot deeper than that when I heard it, the way I heard it. You really have to be careful with your words; they have power and energy and a vibrational resonance that you react to whether you realize that or not. It’s proven science, you know, so even when you say things like you’re joking, you know the words can still do damage.
By Michelle Devon5 years ago in Confessions
Where am I from?
If you know me, I am a very social butterfly. Ask me a question, and you'll learn a lot about me. But this is a question where inside I feel that I am rolling my eyes as I take a breath to try to get this question answered. For some people, this question is a simply one word reply. But for me, there's an explanation required after the answer.
By Misty Paul5 years ago in Confessions
Life
It was a dark and stormy night, on the road there was a car with the headlight on making sure that no accident would behold on them. Seeing this shiny silken pavement started to remind him of his desire to be with his soulmate that was miles across an ocean that he knew he had to go to her. On this same night he packed his suitcase and headed down a pathway he may never return from with his desires he wanted to show his girl, getting closer and closer to the airport, thinking to himself thank the heaven I will reach my beloved soon to caress her face and hold her tight and never let go of her.
By Jo-Ann Therrien5 years ago in Confessions
Zippo
My dad was a pipe smoker. Do not know if people smoke pipes anymore. Googled it and there seem many options. I must not travel in the right circles if I even have a circle. Not a very healthy habit and dad would invariably fall asleep, pipe lit, and a smoldering bit of tobacco would fall on his shirt, much to my mother’s chagrin. Many shirts found their way to the rag pile as a result. My dad used Zippo lighters to keep his pipe lit. Most of my father’s life was spent in Rochester, NY on what I fondly refer to as the wrong side of Lake Ontario. This is a view shared by many of my fellow Upstate brethren living in Watertown, or Syracuse. In the winter, and most of the rest of the time, the wind howls from the northwest, from Canada, across the lake, bringing the most unpleasant and uncertain weather. One element is certain. It is always windy. Specific to the Zippo, its claim to fame is its windscreen that helps it stay lit. The Zippo is an engineering marvel, American ingenuity at its best. My dad had at least four that I can remember.
By Alexander J. Cameron5 years ago in Confessions
Hi, my name is Elizabeth and I'm a functional drug addict and workaholic
I've always been a person with a plan, a goal, something to strive for. I like knowing where I'm going and why. I like being in control. My favorite days are the ones where I can account for every moment of the day and articulate how it helps me accomplish my plan or goal.
By Elizabeth Grant5 years ago in Confessions
