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#3
Fingers reach towards ceiling like thin beacons, palms outstretched, fake smile. This haiku is one of the few surviving ones I wrote when I first started to write poetry. (The others got lost on floppy disks and notebooks my mum threw out.) I used to give them numbers as titles, this was the third I've ever written. I don't really remember why.
By Imola Tóth7 months ago in Poets
What happened to Emilia Kállay?. Content Warning.
Being thirteen is a horrendous age for a girl. Or at least, that's what we thought when Emilia celebrated her birthday. We knew the day was coming up, based on the intel we collected about her. We prepared our plan a week ahead so I could sleep over at Marvin's. We spared all the money we made from mowing lawn for this long range listening device that was advertised on Teleshop.
By Imola Tóth8 months ago in Fiction
