A Life for the Living

"Do not pity the dead, pity the living and above all… those who live without love."

Category Archives: Stories

An Excerpt


“Know that if you do anything else or say anything to hurt my sister again, I will kill you.” For the first time in a long time, I was furious and angry. My tone was no longer pleasant and kind, it was serious and reasuring. Just the thought of his words filled me with anger and disgust.

“Screw Lena and Emmit, I dont care about them. Let them do whatever the hell they want. I am going with to come with Karine and her mom in the mornings.” He was so cold and lifeless, like he had been when we first met, Peter was turning back the clock and going back to the corpse-like state he had been which only angered me further. But no matter how furious I was it still didnt make an imprint into Peters humanity, he looked me in the eye and began to laugh.

“You?! You wont kill me! You cant!!” He seemed to underestimate me. Had this been another time and a different situation, there was no way that I could take his life but seeing as he put me in this state of mind, I could actually pull it off. Not to mention that he was always pushing me and testing my limits, this time he pushed too far.

So I composed myself and took a deep breath before speaking

“I won’t hu?! Alright let me take you into a chokehold and lets see if I let go.” There was no anger in my voice, just a relaxed monotone output. But even still Peter continued to laugh never the less, he agreed.

“Ok!! Lets…do…it!!” Peter found himself very cocky and I had warned him many times before to not gain so much confidence but he never listened. So today that lesson would take on a physical effect. On this day, Peter would pay the price for his over confidence. So opened my arms and let him into my grip. As he rested his neck on my inner elbow, my heartbeat increased ten-fold. It was beating simultaneously with Peters heart as I felt it from his major neck artery.

“Are you ready?” I didn’t even wait for a response, instead my grip slowly tightened like a snake capturing its prey. A couple minutes passed before Peter spoke in a laughing tone,

“Ok. You can let go now.” He gave a few nervous chuckles before realizing that he had bitten of more than he could chew. I was going to kill him and we both knew it. He spoke the words again forcing them out of his mouth as he struggled to let himself out of my lock. But I could not hear his plea, his voice was faint in my mind, I was more focused on the sound of my blood pumping faster and faster. Through my veins, to my legs, up to my arms, and finally to my head. I took a deep breath to take the edge of, to calm me down, and time slowed down. My heart beats retarded and became steady. Peters movements too became slow but I moved through time at a steady rate. It was like everything was put on hold to give me a second so I may gather my thoughts. I didn’t understand it but I was glad it happened. Then I heard Peter’s voice in my memories,

“Your a girl, no joke!! Grow some balls! Are you gay, ‘cuz you seemed like a faggot to me!!” All the pain Peter caused me grew and expanded in my head, all the words I told him I forgave him for piled up like grains of sand and became this massive emotional sand dune. I looked up in the mirror only to notice my eyes changing color. It’s natural bright hazel state had now turned into a boiling blood red inferno. Then I looked upon Peter, he was still struggling to gain his pace back in time, tapping my arm fircely in attempts to gain my attention but I was too focused on the job at hand. Peter was going to pay for what he had put me through.

I looked into his eyes, hoping to get a glimpse of how his life would use it as an exit door to leave his body, for a persons eyes are a window into their soul. Slowly, life began to leave him. He was lazily gasping for air as his cheeks slowly became host to the color purple and then something else. From Peters frosty blue eyes, there dropped a tear. Instantly I became reminded of the last time he had shed a tear infront of me. It was during my birthday when he had committed a crime against me and I thought that I would never be able to forgive him. That same night, he came to me with sorrow filled eyes and an apology that I would never forget.

“I promise, I will never do anything to hurt you. Please. I can’t lose a friend like you.” I became angry with his empty promise

“You liar! You lied to me!” I yelled aloud as time regained its pace and I tightened my grip as far as it would go. His words filled my head again,

“ I love you. Please. You’re like an older brother to me.” All of a sudden, I was struck by a force greater than myself and I released him and took a couple steps back to the wall behind me. He fell to the floor trying to catch his breath, taking his hands to his neck as if to free an invisible noose that binded him. Peter was still choking and I couldn’t understand it. I stepped forward again, pitting my efforts with his to try and free him.

“Don’t you dare die on me!” I yelled while trying to free him from this unknown danger. In fear I stepped back from him and leaned against the wall as my legs collapsed under me and I fell to the floor in panic and in tears. All of a sudden he stopped his fierce gesticulating and random body jerks and lied completely still. I took my hands up towards my eyes to wipe the tears of my face only to see the blood that was already there. Had I succeeded in killing my own Little Brother? Or rather the person whom I had considered my younger brother. I crawled over to his body to see that he was laying down with a bloody nose, terrified, trying to catch his breaths. I tried to hoist his tired body up to stand on his feet.

“Come on. Get up. Don’t let your dad come home and see you like this. Lets go get you washed up.”

He forced himself out of my touch. “Don’t come near me! I’m not going anywhere with you!”


Just a Cup of Coffee

My mother once told my sisters – at the age of young – any ailment that should ail you, any pain that should pain you, and any sorrow that sorrows you can be cured with one cup of Armenian Coffee. Almost like heaven my mother told them, adding that it has been this way for generations just as her mother drank the powerful substance and her mother before her. It has a certain quality, my grandmother started, able to make you forget everything. Also depending on how sweet it is it can change your entire disposition. This liquid is so powerful that a despised enemy can become a friend simply by sharing just one cup of this ambiguous substance. But be full of care, my mother warned, for when you reach the bottom of the cup all of its powers reverse. It leaves you wanting more, this addicting substance and if u have seen me and your grandma drink, you know these cups are rather small. It was only then when my sisters and I realized why my grandmother drank it so many times in once day. She drank to forget the deaths she had seen, to reverse the heartbreaks she had endured, and to temporary relieve the things that ailed her.

As my sisters and I came of age, we each experienced the benefits of this drink but neither I nor then gained the strength to live without it. So we all sit her at this square table now, looking at the tapestry my grandmothers grandmother had sew so many years ago, with the strings she had found while walking through a desert in 1915. We all exchanged glances – my sisters, my grandmothers, my mother, and I – as we talk about this memory, coffee in hand, all of us smile and remember our great grandmother until we come to a point in this moment. Soon the bottoms of our cups meet the saucer and we look into one another’s eyes, noticing our smiles turn to sorrows. Each of them takes a look into their cups to see the dark, heavy substance left behind the delicious drink. They all look up in shock but I already knew that we had reached the bottom. Then my mother and grandmothers disappeared with their cups and my sisters sat with me for a while. We watched the clock. One hour. Two hours. Three hours pass till I decided to make another batch and as we took the first sips, my mother and grandmothers appear again and we have coffee with them once more.


Cup of Armenian Coffee (Credit to website, editing done myself)

It’s Just a Story

We walk down a path in the forest. Tall trees cover the evident twilight as him and I walk down this path. There is silence between us but the rustling of the leaves makes it seem less awkward. The chill in the air tells me to speak first “Here take my sweater. You look cold, I have a jacket under anyways.” But then again he always looked cold, skin pale and white, eyes frozen in time and in color, his body heat or lack there of. He took the sweater from me and placed it precariously upon his shoulders and there was a long walk of silence before he spoke. “You don’t need to do this you know. I can live perfectly by myself.” “We both know you can’t. Plus there is nothing left for me here anymore.” I responded.We said nothing more until the moon rose higher to make twilight more evident. “I won’t let you to.” He said “This is my choice, I brought you into this world and now I must pay the consequences.” I said bluntly. “I hope you know I am great full for all of this.” I did not respond to him for this was insincere, he felt absolutely nothing for he was, a living dead. Anyway I wasent doing this for him. I was doing this for his family, for I had brought him back from death and they being forever great full welcomed me into their home. How could I let him perish? But it was not for them in the beginning. I being an only child, felt the lonely sting that came with it and as the resources were available to me, I thought it time for me to fashion myself a sibling by means of necromancy. But there was an uncalled for consequence that came with this, neither can live while the other survives.

As twilight came to a near close, we came upon a circle made from all the elements and placed where the sun and the moon could shine upon it. “Come.” I said “It’s time.” He felt nothing, no remorse, no sadness, nothing, for he was… frozen. I took a stick from the ground that was close to breaking but was still attached by small pieces of bark. He grabbed one side and I the other and as we did the circle caught fire, wind blew in a circular motion around us, and the ground beneath us became moist. After a while, when the wind blew the fire out, the ground shook violently, knocking us to our feet and cracking in a straight line between us. The stick then finally broke and one piece fell to each side. The ritual was complete and soon color flowed into his skin and gave him life, his eyes took shape and a color not so different that what it had been before. But he still looked sickly and malnourished. We both stood up and grabbed our pieces of the stick. He took of my jacket and made his way towards me. But as he crossed the line to take my embrace, the sun set closed twilight and I was no longer there, moved to another world. Realizing what had just happend, his heart melted and he began to weep. So now, everyday durring twilight he waits for me at that place – calling for me while holding his end of the stick- but I don’t show up. I am glad to be away from that monstrous world, from him. But even though he dosent see me, I still see him, a painful reminder I could no longer face. So I grabbed the two pieces of the stick, mended it so that they were together just slightly, and tossed it to the far side of the earth. This would sever the connection between us and I would never see him again. For no matter how much his heart melts… it is still ice.


Broken Stick