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Short Story: The Scars That Define Us

The Scars That Define Us Melissa R. Mendelson

The room was blindingly white.  The floor and ceiling canceled each other out.  There was a door somewhere in here, concealed by the wall.  Soft air trickled down from invisible vents.  Few pieces of furniture decorated the white oblivion, and in its heart was a young woman, whose long, brown hair clashed against the white.  Silence cascaded in, flooding the distance between us, and finally I said, “Shall we begin?” The young woman remained sitting on her bed.  She pressed her hands against the mattress.  Her bare feet kicked at the floor.  Her long, brown hair continued to cover her face.  Then, she turned my way, staring at me with one brown eye, and then she slowly pushed her hair away from the left side of her face, revealing a large, white bandage with tape stretching across her skin, missing her other eye only by an inch.  “Where should I start,” she replied. “How about we start at the beginning, Miss…” “Please, call me, Ravine.”  She mov…

Poem: Lying Down With Lions

Lying Down With Lions by, Melissa R. Mendelson
We lie down with lions,   so they could chew on our bones,   puncture our skin,   and savor victory.   We lie down with lions,   deafened by their roar,   swallowing up our cries.   We lie down with lions  for we must be led,   even if the path is narrow,   but our faith is blind.   We lie down with lions,   so the jungle will not take us.   And we will live another day.

Short Story: I Was Only Eight

I Was Only Eight by, Melissa R. Mendelson When I was eight-years-old, I didn’t know anything.  I was a silly kid, hooked on Jem and the Holograms, reading Wonder Woman comics, and dancing to Lionel Richie’s song, All Night Long.  I was fascinated with Bruce Lee, and my first Horror movie was Poltergeist.  I would spend the nights on the couch between my parents, watching The Twilight Zone, and I believed that there were monsters under the bed and in the closet.  But the real monsters were waiting for me at school for I was not well-liked, always fighting with Evan and the gang, and I would have been alone, if not for a few friends, one friend in particular. At eight-years-old, I was still trying to understand who I was, and I mimicked everything.  At her birthday party, I tried to be silly, placing an arm around a friend, making dumb jokes.  I loved to laugh.  Laughter back then was a great sound to me, and we all laughed and giggled as we watched a Cinderella play.  And after the play, …

Short Story: When The Pennies Fall

When The Pennies Fall
(Inspired by Rest Haven, Monroe, NY) Melissa R. Mendelson
The birds wake me up in the morning with their chirping and flapping.  I hear them inside the walls.  I always wondered how they got in there, but it was a familiar, comforting sound.  There was no sound today.  That bothered me.  Summer was not over yet, and they usually left right before winter.  Then, they would return, telling me that spring was on its way.  They should be chirping and flapping right about now, but they weren’t.  And the silence broke into a symphony of snores. Becky had started to sneak into my room at night.  She didn’t want to startle me by crawling into the bed.  The bed was also small, so she slept on the arm chair to the left in the corner.  I didn’t know she was there until she started to snore.  Sometimes, she would even talk in her sleep.  At least, she would try to.  It was like she was chasing conversations with a ghost. The breakfast call sounded from the kitchen and marched up …