http://slow.writerscafe.org/shibeauxda The original writings of author Tim M en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776023775 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 We only ever caught glimpses of himduring those first few weeks of the school year, darting around the halls andholing up in the art room as he prepared it for the class. For Mitch and I, itwas a horrendous torture to have to wait out the time it wou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/894936/ We thought we were kings. After ayear and a half of playing consistent gigs throughout the state, we decided totake the plunge and move to Portland, the nearest metro area that we thoughthad a great musical potential. We played our last few shows to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/894935/ An essayist's rant. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/831231/ Kevin had only been home for thirty minutes when he decided to masturbate. His parents would not be home from work for at least two hours, his sister was at soccer practice, and the dog was in the back yard. His bedroom had never been safer. He closed the blinds, shut the door, and leaned against th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/816843/ Screenplay version of my story 'The Jackson Witch'. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/794088/ A amateur science fiction story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/767445/ The woods that covered the Dovetail property were mostly pines and spruce, and their endless needles provided a soft carpeted forest floor for Susie Dovetail to run through, which she did almost daily. Her younger brother, Emmett, would try to tag along sometimes, but his eight years was clumsier th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/734375/ Clarence Wendleton began to dismantle his carefully packed lunch piece by piece on the picnic table on the backside of Wilshire Hills’ shopping center. Clarence was slightly perturbed; he was already two minutes behind schedule, having already been held up at the time clock by his repulsively .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/733897/     “That simply will not do, Jeffrey,” Prudence said.     Jeffrey reluctantly placed the toy car back on the shelves and stared at the floor while his mother double-checked her grocery list. They’d been in Jackson’s Foods for less than ten minut.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/733877/ It was practically dusk when the boys started home, and the neighborhoods they walked through had an eerie twilight glow. Neither had caught anything, but that wasn’t usually the point. Their tackle boxes rarely ever contained bait. Ethan didn’t even like the idea of piercing a worm with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/733314/ So we finally get there, and all John can say is that he’s sorry there’s such a long line. I bring up the fact that had we left when I was telling him we should, a full two hours earlier, then maybe there wouldn’t be such a line. Already his thoughts have moved on, and I know the a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/732748/ I was born in the wrong decade. These days you’ll often hear hip, loquacious philistines trying to pretend they were around when punk broke, or acting as though they were there right alongside Kerouac and Ginsberg at City Lights. I, however, am not one of those a******s. What I mean here, is t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/725022/ We plowed along the plainsland. We sank our hands in the earth,We sowed our hopes in small hollows, We coveted mighty seedlings, And we sweated ourselves dry throughLabor and Hardship.Our names are carved indelible In the roots and air of the land, And the dichotomy We created of roots and limbsGrip.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/709527/     When I was a kid, the boys around the neighborhood would always get together in somebody’s backyard and play games. Tag, touch football, soccer, baseball, play-sword fighting, cops and robbers, and any other variation involving good guys and bad. The theme of the game wasn&r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/693664/ An analysis of the essay by Lars Eighner, which can be found here: http://producer.csi.edu/cdraney/archive-courses/fall07/engl102/e-texts/eighner-dumpster.htm http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/689035/ An essay on homelessness. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/687030/     They had to pull me out of class for it. It was the middle of the day, and we were listening as the teacher read from one of my favorite books, My Side of the Mountain, where a boy leaves his home to live alone in the woods, when the announcement came over the intercom.  &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/685437/ Unrevised http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/684947/     When still small, we fastened ourselves to daydreams        Like hot air balloons    And let fall the sandbags of doubt    As we grew, the heat        Unbridled    Scorched the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/683108/ First attempt in a long time at a first person narrative. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/683103/    Most of the workers spent their lunch breaks in the courtyard, where they could sit at the rusting picnic tables and inhale some of the crisp air that so seldom made it into the factory. They were dressed in similar overalls of dull blues and greys, with a few wearing caps in the same s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/682178/ An essay on Free Markets. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/681544/ An essay on the difficulty between distinguishing good and evil. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/670689/ An essay on how cell phones affect personal relationships. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/670687/ An essay on violence in video games, and their place as an artform. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/670686/    Cindy Colfax loved to play pretend. She put on lavish tea parties in her room, dressing all her stuffed animals as formally as she could--she especially liked the touch of cardboard cut-out bow ties. She played out in the yard too, defying most girl-child stereotypes of fear of dirt and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/670685/     She’d picked it up from her mother, talking with her hands like that. Her mother told stories at the dinner table when Elle was a little girl, and her eyes would trail the wide movements and flexing fingers, magnetized by their motion. Now Elle told the stories, and her onlo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/664102/ My final project for a writing class. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/643030/     “I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to keep talking. I suppose we could sit here, listing details back and forth about why it is we feel one way or another, but where would we be at the end of all that? Right back here. Right back where we started.”   &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/630136/ Revised http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/626311/ Unedited/unrevised http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/625098/     Shoppers wheeled around us in the produce section, flashing grumbling stares as we blocked their way.    “And this is Gabe, my youngest.”    She flipped the fold of photos to the last in the batch, and presented the image of a cherubic tod.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/621354/     Larry Liebowitz shifted uncomfortably in his rough tweed pants, feeling the shrinking waistline squeeze his gut. He had forgotten to do the laundry, and the grey pants he’d long outgrown were the only thing clean in his barren wasteland of a closet. He tried to dig a thumb i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/620243/     The door was locked, and this was strange.     The door to room 201 was always open in the morning, inviting students in before the first bell rang. But not today. There were three of them, Dylan Wells, Jane Dolmeyer, and Bud Halport, all puzzling outside the door a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/613283/ Stood fast held on the structure by magnetic pulses Stared into swirling pools of reflection The sky is weight and nightmares Found an idea hidden at the core, and tried to wretch it forth It was only indigestion. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/613199/     “Alright, clear the bay doors!” The Foreman yelled out over the shoddy PA system, strewn with hanging cables and so much patchwork duct tape around the endless warehouse. Orange spinning dome lights and a boisterous blaring siren sent workers scattering away from the g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/612705/ I can taste the fleeting perfume she so carefully applied only hours ago, but only after its delicate charm has been washed away by saliva are my senses enveloped in her own natural scent. Her skin, porcelain smooth catches shadows and shows me hidden angles. My fingers drape and drag, and I use bot.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/611558/     We shared two classes, Math and English. She was terrible at both, while I was only terrible at Math. I can’t remember the first time I saw her, or when we first spoke to each other, but I do know I fell in love with her before I knew what love was, and maybe that’s wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/610182/ Annabelle discovers magic in her storage space and in herself. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/601591/ Revised http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/601117/     Packed tightly in the corners of the house were all the belongings that Zoe had ever held dear. She had wrapped them all individually with bundles of ink bleeding newspapers, and tied them tightly with twine. There were old books, ones she'd held so tightly when reading that their.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/600356/ They gathered round the knifing flames of the bonfire,  holding handfuls of cell phones, portable stereos, laptops,  flat screen televisions, DVD players, gaming consoles, and countless more variations of electric toys they’d been spoiled with for so long. One by one, they threw thei.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/599320/ We, the dignified prancers of this corner on Lose & IgnoreDeem it absolutely necessary to point outThat a million shoes are now untiedAnd as things begin to fall more and more by the waysideAnd unless something breaks the herdInevitability is really going to chap your a*s http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/599261/ The sounds of hammeringEcho over thick plate steelLike sonar wavesAs the weak spots are first blockedThen sealed off completelyAnd retreat is deemed necessary by all the tendrils of self doubtThat spiral infinitely back inside So that as you're locked inChasing them into the abyss becomes a full tim.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/598641/ A haphazard man,     wearing only black and tan,         was stopped by the sound of a voiceAnd regretted his step,     when he felt he was kept,         paralyzed with no sort of choiceFor the voice was his ow.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/598171/ In crescendos of light and furyThey spoke to each other in a dead languagePassing back and forth the tomes of knowledgeThey'd forgotten they possessedReeling away from the decay of the worldAnd flourishing within each otherTheir eyes would reach outYearningFor another small morsel of insightShared b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/598167/ I love myself and all that I've run fromGuilty pleasures live in meTake those hands and kill what you want toAnd say, "Judge not lest ye be judged."You've got it in me completelyI warned you, told youYou never listen to meRavaged and raped you come crawling back to my feetI'll use your bones to buil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/576952/ Everywhere you areI spot you from a mile awayI can see it in your eyesIt hangs on all the words you sayLet me know if you do Stray awayThe monster's gotten outHe watches the tube with meSick of sitting aroundI beg to go out and playLet me know if you do Stray awayDoc can you fix me upI'm in one mill.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/576951/ The smell of cigarettes is as thickAs a thousand fools dancing on a cliffThe balladeers describe the heatWhile air-brushed artists rape the meatThey all drift alongWith sculptures in their songsThey all lay blame to excusesWhen the sculptures slip and fallThe audacity that you'd even be speaking to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/576950/ The secrets that we holdBroken chain designReaching for the stainUnholy or divineRotting in the silenceThe drones are on the moveWith wretched willingnessDeliver all the goodsForget all your regretsStrangled by the cablesSiren searing pain surrounds youMoves along your scrawny neckAnother touch will.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/shibeauxda/576949/