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This tag is associated with 4 posts

Despair Has Its Own Calms

This week, as part of the coursework for a free online literature class I’m taking with Dut and my fellow blog warrior Erin, I read Bram Stoker’s classic Gothic vampire novel Dracula for the first time. Given my penchant for horror, it is no surprise that I loved it completely. So, with a tip of the hat to Mr. Stoker and without any further ado, I give you my foray into vampire fiction; just don’t expect any glittering or romance here.

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Caught in the Grip Unyielding

As I’ve experimented with creative writing throughout my high school and college years, one inescapable truth became quickly evident: my writing just drips with melodrama. Everything is overblown and grave, with overwrought adjectives and intense mood. (This is probably why I love Florence + The Machine so much.) With that fact firmly kept in your minds, I present my latest piece of poetry, inspired by a throbbing headache yesterday that I could not shake. Continue reading

Dream: Night of 6/20-6/21

I usually am not much of a dream-rememberer. I awake with fleeting images of what took place in my subconscious, and by the time I enter the shower five minutes later, those images are gone completely.

Last night, however, I had a terrifying nightmare that I remember frame-by-frame. I have transcribed it into story form, taking care not to embellish wherever possible. I wish I could say I was making this up, but I certainly did not. This isn’t exactly an award-winning piece of storytelling, as the melodrama is nigh-suffocating, but it’s what my crazy-ass subconscious managed to come up with. Without further ado… Continue reading

Centipede: A Melodrama

This morning, I was going about my daily routine, packing my bag and brushing my teeth, when I happened to look up, where I noticed a FREAKING centipede clinging to my ceiling.

This is the dramatization (in screenplay format) of my ordeal.

CENTIPEDE: A MELODRAMA
Screenplay by Cory Hershberger


We open on our HERO, a young, dashing twentysomething. He’s in the process of getting ready for work, eyes still a bit bleary from the alarm that recently went off, waking him from a particularly entertaining dream. He’s freshly showered and dressed, brushing his teeth in an endearing fashion: one hand working the brush and one attempting to pack his messenger bag. He heads back into the bathroom to spit and rinse. Continue reading

"Lock up your libraries if you like, but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind."

-Virginia Woolf, "A Room of One's Own"

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