Melissa Rose Boisclair

 I haven't been writing lately which, in all honesty, isn't the strange part. What makes it worth noting is that I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't writing. Usually, the knowledge of my failed attempts (or lack of attempts) is a constant, grating knowledge weighing down my every thought and action. I play video games (Horizon Zero Dawn <3 )  and the thought pesters. I read a book, and anxiety swirls. Dusk falls, night rises, and I sink into self-loathing at the wasted but pleasantly relaxing day. This time I didn't even notice my lack of ambition toward chasing a dream I've had since middle school. Why? I was probably having too much fun. I did need the break, though. Writing anything was becoming a painful process for me. Every word was nails driven through my fingers. It's back to being mostly effortless now. (pfft) So, I have another story for your delight. This one, like the last, is based on a dream I had. Actually, as it's recorded in my journ...

This one is based on a dream I had a long time ago. Honestly, some would call it a nightmare but I think I was too fascinated by everything I saw to be afraid, and in it, I found a valuable lesson.  Here is... Hell Inside   Elsie was thinking about hell again – not that she thought of it frequently. It was strictly an over-the-past-few-days kind of thing. No matter, all the thoughts eventually led back to the same place. The people in Hell were the people stupid enough to fall into it. She thought about all this while taking a smoke break out back. The kitchen was busy that night because it had been raining all day. Rainy days were tricky. Sometimes it kept people in, other times it drove them out. Either way, it meant extra work for her because the dim sum restaurant delivered. The crisp, post-rain air was nice. She re-did her pony tail so the heavy dark locks were off her neck, and laid a dry piece of cardboard down so she could sit on the top of the ...