I am a young college student and have been writing for as long as I was capable of actually using a pencil rather than feeling inclined to eat it. From the distant and freezing land of Minnesota, I am solely an artist and focus most of my time on creative pursuits. I intend to write until the end of my days. FACEBOOK

New Title(s) from Amanda Tucker

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	Somewhere, somehow, I had become submerged in darkness with seemingly no way out. No way out. I should have lost hope, but there was one memory that saved me, kept me going when nothing else mattered. You were my hope. As long as I remembered you, I would fight.                                                                              Excerpt Word Count: 5507 Pages to Print: 20 File Format: PDF Price: 2.99

Excerpts

The Pebble

A long time ago, I saw the light. I lived like anyone else—I saw the sun flickering on the waves, felt the burning sand between my toes, and tasted the wind on each breath I took. I saw the clouds slip past in the azure sky, felt the wild beating of my own heart within me, and heard the dull roar of the restless waters. Back then, things had meaning, for every sound had a source and every voice had a face, when nothing else made sense. Your voice had a face, and it was a wonderful face, I remember. When my thoughts are still, I can almost see your face as clearly as if I weren’t asleep. You seem so close, and yet there’s an iron veil of shadows between us. I don’t remember why. What I do remember is there once was light; and in remembering, I know all I see now is darkness. I spend a lot of time submerged in thought, suspended in my own subconscious. I’ve lived in the blackness of the deepest part of my mind for countless minutes, feeling each memory rain down on me, like a shower of falling stars. If I had hands here, in this nothingness, I would reach out and catch one of those stars. Maybe it would light up a little of this darkness and show me a path back home—a path back to you. I haven’t forgotten you. There are times when I’m filled with despair, wondering if I ever even existed in the first place, wondering if maybe I’m just some daydream God entertained for a moment, but I’ve never doubted you. I could have never, even in the most beautiful of dreams, created you. But can the same be said of me? Sometimes, I fear I’ll come to forget even the light of life I once saw, and this will become all I remember. If that were to happen, could I really claim to be alive? Maybe I’m not alive. Maybe this formless prison is death, and maybe I’ve been dead all along. In the light, I would have believed in a Heaven, as much for your sake as for my own, but now, any belief I used to have is only a memory, and only memories of you seem to shine with hope and vitality. If I ever find my way back home, even if it’s only for a second, I’ll let you know you continue to be my hope. Today, I felt your tears. I felt them so faintly—a slight pressure beneath countless layers of barriers—but I felt them, nonetheless. I must still be alive if I could feel, however faintly, the wetness of your tears as they dropped onto my skin from wherever you were. I wanted, more than anything I’ve ever wanted before, to reach out to you, to reassure you, to let you know that I’m not hurting, but wherever my hands were, they would not move, and my eyes would not open. All I could do was stand silently in the space of my mind and wish you could feel me in the way I could feel your tears.

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