I Never Wanted to be Psychic and Bipolar Girl
are my novels on Barnes & Noble and
Smashwords dot com…
5 Star ratings! I hope people buy them to help
with my med bills! The little baby is my
grandson, Beckam :)
Mannequin Nightmare
In a dream I walked up a dark street beside a large warehouse. Lights flickered dimly in some of the windows. Fog crept about me like ghostly, moving hands, and dogs howled from far away. The entranceway was two gray metal doors. I pulled one open and went inside.
Rows of mannequins stood in various positions like pink plastic humans. Their eyes followed me as I walked up the aisle.
I put my hands in a megaphone shape about my face and hollered, “I suppose you’re all going to come alive now—come alive like dead zombies and start talking to me?”
Their arms moved back and forth, and their legs rustled like scraping bones as they surrounded me. Hands caressed my face like snakes, and bony legs coiled about me as they pushed me to the floor. An Asian woman with raven hair wailed, “We are alive as you, we deserve life, we aren’t dead but—”
I awoke screaming in bed, my hands clenching one of my posters I had ripped off the wall.
Mom flung open the door and flipped on the light. “Shane! Shane, what is it?”
She approached me in her blue robe and I thought she was a mannequin as well. My back was against the headboard and my arms were outstretched as I fended off imaginary attackers.
Dad stood behind her. “What is it, son?”
They were alive. I was alive. Dolls and mannequins weren’t supposed to be alive.
Why then did Miss Fuller, the rag doll on my shelf, raise her fluffy finger to her lips to shush me? Why did her eyes blink?
(Excerpt from my novel in progress, working title “Doll Story” by Steven Dame.
It was like I heard thoughts again
Muffled sounds rumbled in my ears, as if a hundred people were chattering at once. It was like I heard thoughts again. I covered my ears. “I don’t feel good.”
Did the pizza make you sick? Anna signed.
“I don’t like being this way. I wish I were normal and didn’t hear thoughts or see things in my mind that I shouldn’t.”
She squeezed my hand. Her face was blurry. You’ve always seemed normal to me. Maybe you have the flu.
Maybe I had the flu. No, I have something worse than that and I’ve been plagued with it all my life. Being psychic had its ups and downs. Maybe it’s nice to know something beforehand, or to know what someone is thinking. You can avoid a lot of trouble that way. But it complicated my friendship with Anna. I always blabbed my mouth before I could think.
(Excerpt from “I Never Wanted to be Psychic” on Barnes & Noble and Smashwords dot com)
Volkswagen’s production facility in Wolfsburg, Germany includes two parking lot towers that store vehicles for customers who want to pick them up in person. The fully-automated vending machine-like process brings cars to buyers via a special elevator.
Mars-1 HF Coll.2 Print on Flickr.
Mars-1 Print for the Hi-Fructose Collected 2 Box Set
To Be Loved
To Be Loved
By Steven Dame
The movement of hands is a romance,
our hands softly breathe against the skin
The moon outside spies with his big eye
Snow gently brushes skeleton trees in winter
The windows are candy ice
To make a metaphor
let your mind dance around gently
until you’ve found something no one else has said before.
If it feels a certain way, it is meant to
breathe and have life
like captured raindrops at the beginning of spring,
each one glinting some future flower
Do you know that the question we ask eternity
is answered as we gaze eye to eye?
It is like that precious wedding photo,
the one moment when time spins back on itself.
Rainbows collide with stars
and the moon trembles
The wind is a ghost,
its face is kept in the trees.
It stares back at you in darkness.
The night holds Secrets
You listen carefully for
the secret you MUST know.
It surrounds you and holds you, the arms of the wind.
I breathe into you…
We are one.
Again.
GRACE
GRACE
By Steven Dame
You will be radiant in robes
Eyes gleaming ten thousand suns
Your arms outstretched
Beckon the awakening of the sky
Surely you shall stand on
The right side of the Father and the Son
Your gown flowing with lilies of fields
Your eyes seeing, believing, touching
Grace upon grace, line upon line
Little children with hungry eyes
Look to you for food, for raiment
You—crafted in heaven before the world breathed
Written for Leona
