Poor Dad was completely booked. So, I took it upon myself to become a professional, certified rock hunter...
Dreamers Creative Writing is dedicated to writing that is from the heart.
Poor Dad was completely booked. So, I took it upon myself to become a professional, certified rock hunter...
A thousand ideas bouncing and bounding inside my head, knocking the smoke out of me, drumming up plans for the day after...
And yet, now, as I stood with him I found myself clawing for words, searching for something to say...
There’s always going to be ‘just too much’, if you can’t divorce yourself from your damn job.
I have a support group made up of parents who have lost a child to suicide. We all want to know WHY...
The numbing aftershocks as four farm families buried sons in closed caskets, automobile rubble robbing her last chance...
He washes under cold water and his sins clog the drain. Blocks of black bakhoor burn by the mirror filling the bathroom with the scent of the Kaaba.
The bus, like all buses in Hyderabad, smells like lemons… and people. Landlocked and sweltering, Hyderabadians have developed an affinity for citrus.
I was ten years old when I concluded my grandfather was illiterate. I approached him with one of my books one day...
You stand at edge of the hole that your mother dug for herself — not for you — but still. You peer down, at the stairs planted into the dirt wall...
A leaf breaks through the rainy mist and spirals to the gravel. “Nick, look!” Bria’s gaze follows the rock face up to where its peak hides in the fog.
Today I will lay him to rest, scattering his ashes in this extraordinarily beautiful setting.
Here is nourishment, we tried to say, here is something to sustain the lives remaining, the hearts that still beat..
Some writers say that they can’t work under deadline – they can create only when inspiration comes. They ignore milestones.
As soon as Alan Baker walked through the door, he knew he was in trouble. There was a less-than-subtle sign...
The smoke doesn’t choke me anymore. I took the hell you made for me and made it home...
Maryn concentrated on the feeling of his touch, the cool sensation that passed over her skin...
I wanted to plug my ears. I wanted to run away. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me...
Dreamers Creative Writing is dedicated to writing that is from the heart.
Mail us: info@dreamerswriting.com
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