Jan 28
poem 0 comments challenge: Tomorrow
Dunkieli's picture

The Future

Tomorrow I hope the inhabitants of the world treat each other with kindness, love each other with their full hearts, and live their lives to the fullest.

Tomorrow I hope love takes place of hate, and hate drowns itself in the deepest ocean to never be dug up again. And shootings come to a halt and our country is no longer an antic.

Tomorrow I hope sickness and poverty are no longer in our state of mind, but rather we think of the next good deed we shall do.

Tomorrow I hope the color of your skin is no longer a determination of who you are but rather a reminder of how special everyone is.

Tomorrow I hope all stomachs are full and the next meal is no longer the main concern of an average human.

Tomorrow I hope that all humans live in unity and unneeded conflict no longer arises.


 
Sep 25
Dunkieli's picture

Changes


BANG BANG BANG! I hear gunshots whistle past me. Five black and orange Jeeps are chasing me. They are filled with men and dogs that are blood thirsty. They are after me because I made a mistake last night. I went out to the bar and had a had a beer. But that was only the beginning of the night. I would order a drink after drink until  couldn’t remember the reason I came here in the first place. Alcohol is like a poison to me. It changes me and twists my emotions, I do things I will later regret. But this night my alcohol driven twin went on a rampage of yelling and messing with the wrong people. These men were the wrong people. I am on foot; pumping my arms back and forth with every stride. I can feel sweat beading on my face, creating a mustache that drips into my mouth. With every exhausted inhale I taste the salty, sour, repugnant “sweat stache”. The Jeeps are gaining on me. I only have 10ish more feet until I reach a dark thick forest.
Mar 26
fiction 0 comments challenge: Dye
Dunkieli's picture

The End of Happiness

I have never been satisfied with the dirt colored look of my hair. It flows until it reaches the straight cliff that ends my rolling hair. I have not consulted anyone about my rebellious decision. It sits right on the sink, begging to be used. When I was seven I asked my mom if I could get my ears pierced and dye my hair. She replied sharply with a no. But that didn’t shut down the true rebel inside me. My real rebellious self has been cooped up inside myself. It eagerly wants to escape but I keep it hidden. I believed that one day it would escape and I would go wild. I believed my rebellious streak would end in a night of jail. But that rebellious night can wait. Only a spurt of my unruly self snuck out today. I decided to dye my hair. I have been eagerly waiting for this day ever since my mom shut down my fractious personality. I unpackage the box and a smile fills my face. I mix the products together and they transform into a paste. I spread it through my hair.
Feb 06
Dunkieli's picture

The Room

I’ve walked past this sign a plethora of times by now.  The sign reads spaghetti. It is very bright with pinkish red lights.  I’ve been intrigued to enter this store front so many times but I’ve been in a rush.  But, guess what. I just got fired from my job at McDonalds. Supposedly I was not cheerful enough.  Anyway, the point is, I finally have a chance to explore what lays behind the peculiar sign. I enter the building that is the signs abode.  I looks quite divine. Nice leather benches line the walls with beautiful wooden tables sitting in front of them. I don’t see anyone. I head into the back of what seems to be a restaurant.  Nobody. I see a door which is ajar. I open it with caution. What lies behind the door is quite unexpected. A large table sits in the middle of a dark room. Metal chairs circle around it. Stacks and stacks of money lay on the table.  A bulky man is illuminated in the little light. His hand reaches for his belt strap.
Feb 01
Dunkieli's picture

The Room


                 I’ve walked past this sign a plethora of times by now.  The sign reads spaghetti. It is very bright with pinkish red lights.  I’ve been intrigued to enter this store front so many times but I’ve been in a rush.  But, guess what. I just got fired from my job at McDonalds. Supposedly I was not cheerful enough.  Anyway, the point is, I finally have a chance to explore what lays behind the peculiar sign. I enter the building that is the signs abode.  I looks quite divine. Nice leather benches line the walls with beautiful wooden tables sitting in front of them. I don’t see anyone. I head into the back of what seems to be a restaurant.  Nobody. I see a door which is ajar. I open it with caution. What lies behind the door is quite unexpected. A large table sits in the middle of a dark room. Metal chairs circle around it. Stacks and stacks of money lay on the table.  A bulky man is illuminated in the little light. His hand reaches for his belt strap.
Oct 30
poem 0 comments challenge: Portrait
Dunkieli's picture

Sunny

               My body soaks up the sun shining down on me. It’s a sunlit day in Connecticut. My family and I arrived at my Grandma and Grandpa’s house two days ago. I look at my Grandma Sunny’s face and try to focus on every detail. How most of her bangs dive to the right like a wave, and her full, loving smile. Like most times she wore one of her many big weaved hats. Her big pearl earrings rest on the side of her ears. Sitting beside her in the chaise lounge is my cousin Tyler. Grandma Sunny hugs Tyler tight and gives him a big smile. And then we start to chat. My Grandma will talk with anyone, it’s part of her caring personality. She tells stories about her neighbors who were Russian spies.  She made sure we stayed protected.