Micah Park Biffle

 A Painters  Tragedy   Mia was an "outcast,"  an individual of different ideas and perception of life. She wore clothes that never accentuated her figure. Most were dark, baggy, and plain. She never took time to draw attention to herself. Yet attention would find her, laughter from the snarky jocks would round themselves about her.   Prodding fun of her looks, her choice of clothing and how she spoke. She spoke shyly, stuttering with unprecedented anxiety. Her eyes would dart wildly as tears would silently fall during the pressures of unwanted attention.  Their laughter would echo throughout the day in her head. Over and over she would replay the horrible moments between her and the rude abilities of bullies. Every morning she would do her best to dart to her classroom.  Scrunching herself into the smallest shape possible while hugging her books tightly. But not matter how small she made herself, no matter how dark of clothes she wore, even...

A Boy's Shadow    It's a cold winter morning, before the sun has risen. Snow covers all inches of the neighboring surroundings. The sky is engulfed in dark feathery clouds. The air is silent as the soft trickling of snow obscures with beauty.   On this cold winter morning, a young boy, the age of thirteen wakes from his slumber. From his dream of dragons and wizards. He opens his eyes slowly, gathering himself into reality. Like picking the last few pieces of a puzzle.    Awake, he sits up in his bed, as he does, something strange rushes through his body. He loses his ability to breath, but only for a moment. His skin flushes pale as he loses breath. What ever passed through him. It felt as if it was a dark presence, something ghastly.  The boy, feels his body regain control, his lungs fill with air. A sigh of relief overcomes his chest. But as he sits, he ponders the presence he just felt. He then remember such a moment, one as exact as this; bu...

 His Painted Soul  He was worn from his constant need to pull through the day. To stay awake in thought with every second. His chest beard heavy and his eyes could see no hope. He could feel his world around him shrink.  Colors that were once vivid are now dull. They settle upon his view like rain, casting streaks of sadness upon his eyes. He feels nothing but sorrow speak with his burdens. Lost for so long, so tired, so anxious to be free.  He finally decided a enough was enough. He took his heart, pulled it from his chest and placed it in a bucket. He then took his pain, his misery and did the same. He poured as many tears as he could into the bucket.  He took every memory, happy and sad, and mixed it in with the rest. He took everything he had inside himself, placed it in the tin bucket and started to mix it. While he mixed it he could hear himself, he could hear memories calling out.  He could hear his pain crying, he could feel ...