He just wanted some place peaceful, some place where he could start his life over again...some place where he could escape the past, and never have it come calling on him ever, ever again... Enter David, the little shepherd who's going to help with that.

“Oh it’s real alright,” muttered Jake bitterly. ”And it’ll get realer. Because this is what happens, Owen. Good things always die. Always. Life snuffs them out so we don’t get too complacent, just so we know who’s in charge.”

it's about the life in your eyes & the passion of your dance.

This story portrays the struggles of a student and a professor to discover a world that remains unseen to the human eye...

What to do, what to do? The girl you love thinks you love everyone else, so what do you do? Oh, I don't know, tell her? OneShot.

FINISHED. A retelling of the classic tale of Peter Pan and his Wendy. Welcome to Neverland, the beautiful refuge from the ugly past.

[Aren’t you cold? Out here all the time with no coat. Honestly.] Prequel to And the Cold Drifts Away.

There was no question of it. No question of her ever being ordinary.

Life is not a poem. Life is not an essay or a school paper. Life is not meaningless but inspiring words desperately glued to the paper. It is love, fraily pinned there but never leaving. It is not afraid to disturb who we are.

So what? Who cares if I steal pamphlets, mailboxes, and dentures. Nobody. But what they do care about is the fact that I ended up with Track Cambridge’s jockstrap. I mean, some girl offered me fifty bucks if she could smell it.

Prose. Sometimes kissing hurts.

In which the poor bastard is accused, weenies are bought and Stagfray Blatchkii loses his dog that doesn't exist. I wish I knew what that meant, but I have no doubt you'll understand. Plainly.

You are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me. ONEshot. [Ultimate Lullaby Award at Satisfaction Awards]

The ancient Greek tale of Oedipus, retold [CC needed - this is the first draft and it's completely different to my usual style] [COMPLETE]

Jen finds love in a bag, and loses it just as fast.

I turn away from those who had once been closest to me and, while polite admissions of keeping in touch weave insincere patterns around my tongue, my inner self thanks every deity that I will never see them again.

The story of a boy and his dog...well, sort of.

A mermaid with a voice too powerful to control. An abusive father bent on using her to his own ends. A friend determined to save her. And a human man whose heart hangs in the balance... The Little Mermaid, severely twisted and retold into modern times.

Not quite poetry, not quite fiction. Not quite anything. Just a random idea that popped into my head one evening. 'and s(he saw him and )he was beautiful, like a drowning angel, she says'

3 AM and there's so much more; 3 AM and there's nothing left. Original post- raining-noodles.blogspot.com/2006/06/3-am.html