I stop myself from writing posts like these because in the act of writing them, I judge myself for whatever I might say. I second guess my words. I dismiss them. I think I should edit it, and then edit it a whole bunch of times more, and I think about how after I have…
Category: Creative Juice
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Flash Fiction: Without
Without By J. Parrish Lewis © 2018 They didn’t come for our guns, we surrendered them. On March 15, 2021, the inexplicable desire to be rid of every gun in my home woke me from my sleep. It wasn’t long before I learned that the same desire welled up within every gun owner. None of…
I’ve been neck-deep in my writing projects lately, and I kept finding that writing other things distracts me from writing what I enjoy writing the most. Whew, what a mouthful of typewritten words. I have to admit that, although I frankly did enjoy writing it, I was happy to complete the short story Secret Signs.…
By J. Parrish Lewis Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 For nearly a week, Alice’s intended consequence for her mother, a perpetual cold shoulder, crumbled slowly until she gave in to her reality. No words, no apologies or favors, would get Alice what she wanted. She knew this because…
I have lost track of the number of times I have opened up the computer to write and let myself be paralyzed by the blank screen, or opened up my sketchbook and let myself be paralyzed by the blank page. When I started this website, it was going to be whatever I wanted it to…
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Secret Signs: Part Two
PART ONE: In which Alice learns there is a new Deaf student at school Secret Signs: Part Two By J. Parrish Lewis She saw his backpack first, outside the speech therapist’s office where kids who had speech therapy were always directed to drop them. It was worn around the edges, broken zipper and bore the…
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Secret Signs: Part One
Alice. The girl does not move. Her gaze remains fixed on the particularly bright line of green that she has drawn to represent the horizon. A vibrant green, it makes her smile. This is her favorite color and she will use it again, often, and with abandon. This is a color she will throw herself…
Yeah, I know, that’s kind of a weird title for someone who is deaf, since I can neither hear a choir nor an echo chamber. But I’ll use these words because it’s the best I have available to me. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I have been doing with Munky Mind for the…
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The writer in the current
The writer sits on his green couch, keyboard poised on the soft pillow resting on his lap. The blank screen intimidates him and will not back down from his insistent stare. He wonders what will come forth, if anything will come forth, for doubts have multiplied of late. Self-doubts about his talent, fed by fearful thoughts and the…