M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 5

Limit

If his only limit was his imagination, then there would numerous ways for him to reach the sky. He wouldn’t have to think about gravity, safety, or a fear of a lack of air, he could just reach for it. He could already be there. But looking out of his bedroom window imagining others doing the same from their bedroom windows on the stars, Kieran could see so many blocks in his adventures. His leg cast. His worrying mother. And how he couldn’t even really get down the stairs.

One day, he promis...

Tainted By Our Choices

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To Forget

Rebound sex is supposed to be messy. Sweat stained sheets and spit-slick lips, no thoughts other than want, no feelings but release, a momentary pause in the heartache to remind that life goes on.

This bar, just the right side of sleazy, is perfect.

A room thick with bodies, the heat from the summer sun so heavy that the atmosphere in the bar feels almost smoky, and liquor on tap to smooth the way for getting exactly what you came for.

A wall of sound that is the disembodied conversat...

Sunshine

He sleeps in a ray of sunshine, tracking the movement of its heat across the carpeted floor. It’s an arduous task; one paw outside the warm zone and he has to roll over, or at its very worst, actually get up.

Sometimes the clouds seal that heat altogether, and no amount of glaring at that greyness overhead makes any difference. Still, at least it’s not raining, or that worse abomination, snow.

He stretches, giving up on the heat and instead seeking out food. His bowl is full of fresh bisc...

This Land

In this barren landscape how can anything grow,

When you’re out in the world in a place I don’t know,

Where fire rains down on you and gunshots ring out,

When you could be in danger I can do nothing about?

This land is infertile and bland with you gone.

It’s been a place for us to exist, never to belong.

The sun is bright, burning, harsh in your absence,

Yet every day I grow colder because of our distance.

This wilderness is empty, lifeless without you here,

Th...

Ice

The world turned to ice. Once all the storms had blown themselves out, all the tsunamis had claimed half the coasts and prosperous lands became home to famine, ice seemed to be all there was left. For the first few years, those leaders who lined their pockets instead of leading their people still decried it wasn’t climate change. After all, the entire globe wasn’t exactly warm. But they soon were silenced, too idle to fend for themselves and too lacking in skill to have anything worth trading. S...

Mirrored

The bedroom mirror is the first thing Sylvester notices when he walks in, a heavy wooden frame stood against the furthest wall. Lowering his bags to the bed, Sylvester moves to stand in front of it, seeing his brown eyes and hair dimmed by the glass. The rest of the room is light, so is the glass just dirty? Smudged? Sylvester can’t tell. Though since he only came here to drop his bags off and change, Sylvester gives the mirror just another glance over then starts his day.

At dusk, tired afte...

As Nature Intended

As Nature Intended

Presenting as an Omega at the age of fourteen, Elliot has grown up cautious, distrustful of the world around him, yet determined to live a fulfilling life in spite of that. He is successful at work, has recently moved into a new apartment, and everything in his world appears to be falling into place. Which is, of course, exactly when his body decides to rebel, forcing ideas and urges into Elliot that he has spent his life trying to deny.

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Vegetable

“It’s hardly an allotment. More of a… vegetable patch.”

Marcus stiffens, masking his indignation, taking his frustration out on the garden fork.

“I’m not saying it won’t be great,” Ted adds, his voice tinged with amusement, like he’s heard Marcus’ internal protest.

“Soil’s good,” Marcus says, turning over another clod. It’s rich, loamy, and he’s confident he’ll get a decent few things to grow.

“So how long before we’re the envy of the neighbours, handing out potatoes to random peopl...

The Station Cat

Trapeze is by far the most interesting thing about this station, something to focus on other than the train being late yet again. He is a calico cat about two years in age, with large patches of orange and brown over his flank and face. If it is a particularly bad day for delays, of which there are many, some would-be passengers like to imagine faces and images in Trapeze’s thick, rich fur. It sure beats passing the time looking at the bridge crumbling over the tracks, or the way the uneven plat...