V.L. Perillo's Blog, page 2

Symphony of Darkness

         Suri sat on the captain's chair, and lay her cheek against her hand, elbow not quite touching the directional energy ring of the stopped spacecraft. She stared out the of the cockpit into the deep space of the end of the universe.          Her father had always compared the colours of space to a symphony, where each black pulsed vivid in front of his eyes as if speaking to him. He was

The Science Report

          Izzy looked at the fail grade she'd gotten on her Science report and slumped in her seat in the deserted classroom. All her classmates had gone on to break, and she could hear them jump and laugh in the playground. Izzy stayed and lamented over her failed assignment.           She had thought she'd finally understood what Mrs García wanted in the final task she had assigned. Izzy'd

If walls could talk...

          If walls could talk, they'd also need to have ears to witness our lives. However, of all the walls in the world, only a few privileged ones would be witnesses to the birth of a world leader, to the betrayal of a loved spouse, to the start of a revolution, to the death of a good man. The rest of the walls would wish for earplugs so we humans would let them sleep.

Perfection?

Some days it will be hard to make the deadline. I didn't think the day would be so soon. Ordinarily, as a type A personality, I would have beaten myself up about it, getting to the point of considering myself a total failure. I wouldn't even call myself a writer because of that. Over the years I've learnt that perfection, as the cliché goes, is overrated. What matters is that tomorrow I get back

Writer's block

            Elena strode the length of her two-bedroom apartment, walking away from the 1-inch cubes of butternut squash, roasted bell peppers and steamed kale leaves before she started marinating enough tofu for the rest of the month. She made a point of approaching her beat-up notebook sitting on the table in the living room and sat down on the chair facing it. She couldn't avoid the work

New year, New life

              "New year, new life," they say.               What happens to all the unsolved problems running through your head when the clock strikes midnight? Does the fight with your sister merely vanish into thin air? Does the fire in your veins over the latest war fizzle in the rain? Does your neighbour grow back the tree she 'accidentally' cut down?               Does the ticking of the

Broken souls

               When half-hearted words fail, and actions are only lukewarm bandaids to the afflicted soul, loneliness envelopes us like the smoke of an extinguished candle. We hide behind a fragmented smile that never reaches our hopeless eyes.                Then, one person reaches out and lays a hand on our shoulder. Then three, four, and countless other shattered souls come together, joining

Waiting

               Ana lay, knees bent, on the red-spotted white futon, her head resting on a red pillow. She read a thick tome, one eye on the writing, the other on the red phone resting on the dining table at the corner of the tiny studio apartment. On the wall, right above her, the handle of the square wall clock Gian had bought her on their second date moved with determined slowness.

Expression

              Momma served those slippery flour and egg worms swimming in red blood that Alla begged for every single noon. At the sight, Siba's stomach rose to meet her teeth in a splash of acid green, littering the flowery tablecloth.               "I told you, Siba, no free speech in this table," Momma said, slapping the back of Siba's head with a wooden spatula. "Just go to your room if you

Phoenix

Their past was going up in flames, their future was melting with the burning lab, and their present was as ephemeral as the nitric acid vapours coming from the exploded windows. Tonight, there was nothing to do but watch the flames consume it all, but tomorrow, they'd walk between the ashes and survive. What's left of the office where I work.