http://slow.writerscafe.org/dippedquilpen The original writings of author Ilana K en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776046011 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Here I amTrapped in the cell of my own bodypounding on the windows of my skin"let me out!"I am screaming so loud that it echoes in my earlike a tolling bell ringing I can feel the blood-stained hands of fearpulling me deeper into my own pathetic existence"Let me out!"No oneI can never break free fro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/888729/ If I were to draw myselfThe lines would go off the pageMy stomach would be so roundSo bold and fatthat there would be no roomIf I were to paint myselfthe desk would accumulate splotches of paintbecause my figure would protrude the boundaries of paperIf I were to build myselfI wouldn't find enough cl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/881349/ I was put on this Earthsolely to be the one that parents pointed to and said to their children--who's innocence was teetering above running water"Do you want to end up like her?"And the child shakes his headdiscouraged by the non-life I have leadI will find a time to catch t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/873777/ ChapterFour Anobsession with criminal justice overcame me. My appetite for it wasbottomless and I thirsted for knowledge about my dad's destiny. Whatwould happen at his execution? Would it hurt? And although the gorydetails scared me, some twisted part of me longed for mor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/873525/ ChapterThree Iwoke up early on Saturday�"before sunrise. I had barely slept thatnight, and although I wasn't eager to get out of bed, there was acertain excitement I had about starting the day. Not that it was agood excitement, it was mostly driven by anxiety a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/873492/ Thenightmares didn't stop. Not even during the day. I would wake up in abed soaked with cold sweat, to my own voice screaming forforgiveness. I tried to get busy, find a hobby like knitting orpainting. For some reason, the cello that I had played for ten yearssat untouched a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/873359/ A poem about death. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870920/  Prologue Daddydied today. He died with a needle in each arm, and belts strappinghis body down to a white table. Mom was there. She wouldn't let mecome. And although I argued because I felt it was my duty to do so, Iwas secretly glad about not being able to go. I had s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870909/ All Maddy wants is to know her father--a condemned man on death row. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870908/ A girl faces her phobia of flying. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870890/ The story of a Jewish moose who wants to be part of Santa's sleigh team. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870889/ The story of a young boy who wants to be famous. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870888/ Lights pollute the darknessshadows follow uswe gather near the faded heavensdying for a breath of lifeDesperation fills our heartsSadness sours our soulClinging to a fading hopethat tomorrow holds much moreTrust- a word rarely spokenDesire- to strong to surviveLiving in the nighttime Dying in t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870886/ Spinning tea cupsnever stop going in circlescollecting dustand ragged breathRound n' roundthey godrivers flashing in and out of realityPainted Flowers blur into lost dreamsScorned hopeswink in the sunlightteasing fictional truthsand dark secretsSpinning tea cups,they never s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870885/ There's a six year old girlwho draws her own bathturning the nob for coldfirst, so that she can stand naked in the tuband examine the scars from the dirty bark on the playgroundSun has darkened the knees uncovered by shorts and skirtsHer thighs, in contrastare pale and untouchedL.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dippedquilpen/870882/