Inkwalk

The Inkwalk is where I share the short stories and poems I’ve written—a space where words become doorways. Stories have always been my way of walking between worlds. Here, you’ll find glimpses into the unknown—tales of magic, mystery, and the whispers of forgotten places. Some are dark, some are hauntingly beautiful, but all are meant to linger long after the last word. Step into the Inkwalk, where every story invites you to wander.

  • Humming bird wings beat fast enough to allow them to fly in all directions.  It’s a feat that no other bird has accomplished.  With that in mind, if someone travels fast enough, they can go anywhere—in any direction.  The same can be said about one’s mental state.  If the human mind incessantly speeds through countless

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  • Prologue.

    Cold and dark often go hand-in-hand. For if there is no light, where is the warmth? What even constitutes as warm, though? Is it the warm rays of sunlight burning your skin on a Summer’s day? The still air of a small room on is stuck in? Is it the feeling that fills your heart

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  • If coffee was an emotion, it would be tiredness. The way that coffee slowly drips and steeps is reminiscent of the way someone sluggishly crawls out of bed. The bitterness of the liquid is like light burning ones eyes from their lamp beside their bed. The smell of coffee can wake someone from the deepest

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  • Writing is a cruel, grueling, and repetitive cycle of editing and rewriting. But I love it. Maybe it’s because I’m a bit of a glutton for punishment. Maybe it’s because it gives me a chance to obsess over something. I don’t know what it is, but I keep coming back to it–time and time again.

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  • “Unnamed (For Now)”

    Writing has always been therapeutic for my heart, mind, and soul. It’s easier for me to put my thoughts and emotions into words on a page than it is to speak them out loud. Maybe it’s because I rarely get judged for what I write. Or maybe it’s because, most of the time, it remains

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  • A Fallen Tree Is Heard

    What is that one saying about trees falling in a forest? Was it, “If a tree falls quietly, does it really fall?” No… I looked it up just now, this is what it says, “If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” It’s

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  • Tension crackled in the air like electricity. Shadows danced on the walls in the dimly lit alley, hiding the faces of two figures who stood facing each other. One was Runa, one of the five heads of the Shadow World and a well-known woman who was known for her keen sense and ruthlessness. The other

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  • My Prose Poetry

    Dear Inkwalkers, Prose poetry is one of my favorite forms of poetry. It just so happens that it is one of the only types of poetry that I can write without it sounding horrible. I tend to lean more towards short stories, flash fiction, and novel writing, so prose poetry is definitely my cup of

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