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stephentotheplate

Where poetry and stories collide.

Chapter 4: Breakfast for Two?

Chapter 4 of Another's Treasure Claire de Winter sat in a chair that turned out to be more comfortable than it looked and lost herself in the nature beauty on the other side of the window. She felt so at... Continue Reading →

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Chapter 9: Present Course of Action

Chapter 9 of Sleeper Cell Justin awoke for the second time in twenty-four hours unsure of where he was or how he got there. Unlike the last time though, he awoke without the dull throbbing headache and without being attached... Continue Reading →

Brave Enough to Love (prose)

Be brave enough to love. To love freely and without restraint, To love with integrity, To love with a urgent sense of transparency. Knowing, that in your honesty Love can grow freely. Be brave enough to love someone more than... Continue Reading →

I Wish Life Were Like This…

I wish that life was like this: I'd be walking down the road of life and reach a crossroads. Great! I have to make a decision; I look to my left, then my right, perhaps straight ahead. I'd say to... Continue Reading →

How to Love (prose)

If I were a man Walking in your shoes, This is what I would do. I'd make sure my woman knew she was loved. In some way, everyday, I'd show it. Tell her I love her smile How she dresses... Continue Reading →

Chapter 3: In the Mean Time…

Another's Treasure: Chapter 3 An hour later after seeing her walk into the lodge he entered his house. The place was a mess with canvases and easels littering the hardwood floors but thankfully it was warmer than outside.  Telling himself... Continue Reading →

Chapter 8: A Reader’s Remorse

Chapter 8 of Sleeper Cell Agent Brown sat transfixed on the couch unable to move. The man had long since disappeared from her living but she remained seated. Clutching the silly manila envelope, she hadn't dared to open. His mission... Continue Reading →

scribbles (poem)

Meaningless lines of endless rhyme, Blank pages like empty minds, Pictures devoid of meaning or symbolism. To a mind closed to the tangibility of realism, My words are nothing, a mere dream. To me, they elevate my consciousness far above... Continue Reading →

Morning Rituals (microfiction)

She awoke to the sounds of someone whispering in her ear. Singing, they were singing. The soft, happy, song slowly pulling her from her dream world. Her lashes slowly pulling apart she was greeted by the warm smile of her... Continue Reading →

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