My writing makes me feel as if my soul is exposed. I’ve never been comfortable with that. I persist hoping the feeling will fade, but it never really does.
-
There’s Bats in the Belfry
There are no happy mediums, not for me. It’s feast or famine, full throttle or slow crawl—it is life in extremes, and it’s the nature of the bats. Bipolar Disorder, Manic Depressive, Mentally Ill—none of these labels evoke anything positive. Nevertheless, these are the labels in which I live under. I prefer far less psychiatric Read more
-
The Weight of Us
Eternal ache In a forgotten soul,Eternity pennedOn a fragile scroll;The scalesHave much to weigh. Perpetual existenceIn a forgotten way,Fate fallenOn a stony brae;Emptiness increasesThe weight of us. From my book: A Dark Quill Read more
-
Sad To the Bone
Happiness had never really existed. Situations and circumstances masqueraded as such, but genuine happiness had escaped me. If I had one excuse why it had, I had a thousand, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Excuses were no longer acceptable. The time had come to face the facts and remove the mask. Happiness Read more
-
Touched with Fire
There are those of us, touched with fire; a fire that rageswithin, threatening to destroy the very mind in which itresides. It leaves behind a chaotic state of a whirling madnesswhich I have become the master of manipulating. There are scars that will never fade, and memories thatwill never free me. Then there is me, Read more
-
Dead Butterflies
Lifeless butterflies, dead and dry, rest in their perpetual state upon a lovely journal that has yet to have its virgin pages marked with the scratching of a barely legible hand. Dead yet beautiful are the butterflies. Promising but empty is the journal. Thoughts can be as fragile as the wings of a dead and Read more
-
The Darkness
I heard what sounded like screaming early in the morning, not long after dawn. It sounded as if something was dying, slowly, painfully. It screeched out one last cry before silence fell. Death echoed in that silence. I looked out the window. I’m not sure what I expected to see. There was a gray hue to the Read more
Flash Fiction and Short Stories
© 2025 S.B. Lacroix
SB LACROIX 