Comments Posted By A. Amdeen

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My toes nudged the ground as i silently crept throughout the house. it was the witching hour. or as i call it, the “eat everything in sight before your parents yell at you hour.”

» Posted By A. Amdeen On 07.26.2014 @ 1:02 pm


His muddled body laid in a big heap. I sobbed uncontrollably at the scene in front of my eyes.

A body. A gun. A man.

“Don’t move or I’ll kill you too!” The man spoke with hesitant authority.

I began to hyperventilate, losing control over every fiber of my being.

“I said DON’T MOVE! Do you wanna join your husband!”

He readjusted his mask and moved to the door, keeping his gun pointed directly at my rattling chest. A little boy peered from behind my back, pointing his tiny finger to my nightmare.

“Mommy, why is dad sleeping on the kitchen floor?” His gentle curiosity pierced through my heart. My poor boy. Just don’t do anything to my little boy. I pressed my palm against his lips, silencing him as the man took off his mask.

“Mom! What’s wrong with his face?”

The disfigured man slowly turned to my little Chris, a bloodshot eye staring directly into his bright blue ones. Without a word, he raised his arm, whipping the gun out and running towards us. I grabbed Chris’ body and leaped towards the ground. He pulled the trigger, he killed my son. He pulled the trigger, he killed himself. I pulled the trigger, and I cried.

» Posted By A. Amdeen On 07.09.2014 @ 7:10 am


The water glistened against the sun’s rays, illuminating every grain of sand on the beach. I plopped onto the yellow sand and looked up, absorbing this beautiful day. It was a great day for fishing, just like any other day of the year. Whether it stormed or there was a hurricane, you can always find the blue-jacketed fisherman in the distance, constantly throwing his fishing pole into the deep blue sea. Every morning, just at 7, the blue-jacketed fisherman strolls into the beach with one goal in mind: fish.

» Posted By A. Amdeen On 07.06.2014 @ 1:32 pm


“A fairytale.”

“NO, it’s true! Why don’t you believe me?”

The mean woman wiggled her narrow fingers at my face menacingly.

“You have a wild imagination, child.”

Sobs began to shake my body, reminding me of my insanity. The mean woman didn’t like my tears, she started screaming at me.

“IT”S NOT TRUE, YOU LITTLE LIAR,” she sighed and took a deep breath before kneeling down to my height. “There is no such thing as witches or magic ovens or candy houses. You’re mental.”

» Posted By A. Amdeen On 07.05.2014 @ 4:24 pm

“A fairytale.”

“NO, that’s not possible! Why don’t you believe me?”

The mean woman shook her head stubbornly, wiggling a finger at my face.

“You have a wild imagination, child.”

Sobs began to shake my body violently, reminding me of my potential insanity.

I was thrown into an oven. No one believes me.

» Posted By A. Amdeen On 07.05.2014 @ 4:19 pm

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