http://slow.writerscafe.org/Anhedonia1349 The original writings of author Anhedonia 1349 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775985941 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 To Mom.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/308421/    What better way is there to die than with a belly full of pills?They numb, and from the moment they're conceived,they shift the focus from the end and remind us of the journey.They walk us down the aisle,and like a photo journal of Glory Road,they represent all the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/285220/ This is my first piece in over a year. Even I don't know its meaning. I just started to write. Randomly. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/262388/ As he began the night covered only by the shallowest veils of sleep, Charles Vauldermare was still able to hear droned, muffled versions of the anchors on television. He would've been thrilled to know firsthand that the Yankees had just blown their third consecutive game to Minnesota, who by all acc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/64428/ The cold wind swirls anxiously in the air,bathing the faces of two still-born lovers with icy,  delectable palpitations;they remind one another of how cruel nature can be and through their fervor   separate themselves from the rest of us.They frolic hand-in-hand along the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/33213/ 1."So. Did you ever get around to doing your Christmas shopping?" Half sure he knew what her question was going to be before she'd finished it, he'd begun shaking his head in disagreement while still listening to her voice. Then, for no reason in particular, he shifted his glance downw.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/27764/ Back in Oakridge, his better half was far less hopeful about the new situation concerning her husband; actually, as far as Connie Vauldermare was concerned, there was no new situation. There was just an accident or a serious injury – nothing even remotely good, and absolutely nothing voluntary.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/26617/ Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv…vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv….Once he'd pulled out of his driveway, he'd made it a point not to think about anything concerning his life back in Oakridge; in fact, he'd done rather well considering the magnitude of the decision he'd just made. At that ver.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/25003/ "I can't do this with you anymore"The words she spoke froze mechanically   in the air,deathly still like a blistering   winter's breeze that left my cold, desolate heartbarely beating and   begging for a second chance. At that very m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/24027/ "I'm going to the store," he yelled up the stairwell. He listened to his voice echo up to the second floor, and after a brief pause and a realization that he wasn't going to get a response, he continued. "Do you want me to pick up anything?"As he propped his weight up on the wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/23496/ I look down and I am silent,up again and    I am free.I am free and    I am dead,crushed beneath the weight of a world    that never really understood.I'm a cold, empty shell,and the little piece that's left of me    is vo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/20769/ I'm growing  old;I'm broken  down,and more than  anything,I'm weary. I laugh.It's funnyhowone word-that word  more than  any    other-can be  the entire    condensation  of life. It's.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/20446/ The moon burns,spinning like aUFOand wondering when(and why)   it was forsaken. It yearns for attention -for the rumbling of lifepulsatinglike a migraineto the rootof its veryexistence; It yearns for somebody,anybody,   to look at i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/16724/ We live forever tethered to the grave likepink gelatinous parfúm,strapped nonchalantly tothe white ceramic face of a urinalwaitingjust waitingto be used up. We spread ourselvespaper thinthroughout the worldand leave behindpieces of ourselves,lingeringunnotic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/15895/ A crucifix hangs ‘round her neck,Her heart beats “Six, six six;”The children, mesmerized by blood,Stab at her with their sticks; The stones that will not break her bonesAre tearing through her skin;A Man they said she’d die withoutIs begging from within... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/15582/     1. The night was calm and serene. The moon burned its reflective embers deep into the darkness. The wind was blowing gently in the night sky, and the stars were glowing so brightly that they seemed almost ready to be snuffed from existence. It was the last Sunday he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/14994/ I love the taste upon her lips,      I love the new disease.I love the feeling that she bringswhen she can’t feel at ease. I love to feel her beating heart      pulsating in my palm,I love to feel her trembling kiss, &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/13935/ 1.Different types of people perceive the world differently. For instance, a pessimist may see the world as frequent series of pain and anguish stemming from some higher power or other depending on their philosophical views; an optimist, however, may see the world as an exquisite greatness that, de.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/11916/ “I miss you beautiful,” his shivering voice spoke.In her eyes, you could see the love, the appreciation; she tried to be angry or dismissive, but the gentle tears rolling from her hilltop cheeks onto the valleys beneath told the true story. She was in love.“I miss you as well,&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Anhedonia1349/1098/