Anca Dunavete

Do you like fiction books? How about sausage dogs? Or maybe both? Then I have something for you ♥️ I wrote and published Dorina Supereroina: Stories of a Magical Sausage Dog Who Can Speak to Children 📖 last month after the NaNoWriMo challenge, and now it’s finally here. I’d love…

If love is the light that dissolves all the walls, why did it make these ones thicker? What you did was ultimately love, I know. Well, mixed with the quiet desperation of never making it outside the realm of Almost There. You wanted out so badly that you made love…

Picture this: there’s an empty space next to you at the table. You make it the shape of everything you need. Now you say hello. This is you at your best, also known as Your Strength, but you haven’t been properly introduced yet. You don’t know what it is, and…

I’m as happy as a puppy who just woke up from a nap and is ready for more cuddles to announce that I have finally decided to self-publish! I’ve been wanting to publish my writings for a long time, but excuses over excuses let fear win for years. Two months…

I curl up in the empty bed. I can’t get warm. When I don’t write, the warmth trickles out little by little. My body keeps the score. Have you expressed yourself lately? it asks. I sigh. I can’t write when I can’t feel. What am I supposed to do? My…

Sure I’m mad—but behind the anger, frustration, and hatred there’s only sadness. The other layers aren’t even real. I made them up to cover it up. Boredom is rage spread thin, and sadness is grief the same way. There’s just so much love inside me, and it’s got nowhere to…

‘How odd, I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.’ – David Foster Wallace It’s been another year. Let me pull you gently now and take a good look at you. You are vibrant and gorgeous, and your mind is insanely cool. But you say,…

I write fiction because it feels less intrusive. We invent the worlds we need to make sense of reality. It’s a safe space to enjoy taste the juicy goodness of the present moment, or stretch your heart open to let the vague foggy sadness out. No one has any idea…

I want to believe in God, but I doubt that He’d believe in me if I were to make Him up again. I’ve been staring into space for so long now, and not once have I felt like we could get along again, even if I let Him exist again…

from a work in progress Towns at rest, people on their way home, intermittent patches of glitter and dark everywhere, all the little things that make up life danced restlessly through her lashes. Leaning her head against the car window, Kara felt wide awake with fear and curiosity. Houses rolled…

When you fictionalise your life you have to invent some of the words yourself—the way they taste, the way they sound in the air—and twist them until no one can tell what hell you pulled them out of. When they ask, you tell them you read a lot as a…

Takes a deep breath and exhales. Pauses for a moment. Then begins to type. It’s been months now. It feels longer, like this has always been my life. If you knew what was raging inside me, you too would see the flat cloud formation at the top of the storm.…

From the height of my balcony, the world seems smaller, easier to tame. Easier to love. Sunlight lay across my knees. I feel like an episode of my life, one that keeps repeating. One I can not bear to hear myself type alive and put on an imaginary shelf. ‘This…

The morning was only growing colder. The streets were still dark. He crept through the streets, staring as if through a window, drenched in old, haunting images of days that now seemed to never have been. He stood waiting, coughing. The cold of the night had gotten into him. The…

Melanie is the product of someone’s imagination, a character in a story that is still being written. As she develops—as she is developed—she begins to question her existence in between her maker’s writing sessions. Why can’t she remember her childhood? What do the blank spaces mean? Why does she not…

this post was published in Letters of Love I hope this letter finds you alive—all senses and engines burnings—and well. It might find you waiting in line at the Christmas market. It might find you taking a break from sitting in the sun. It might find you in your most…

Every second of the day is a question that only I can answer—and, because it keeps asking, I am no longer giving it the truth. I say this, but it could have easily been something else, and the best part is that lightning does not strike me when I push…

‘I write because nobody listens’ was the first thing I noticed about her. She had scribbled this sentence on the first page of a notebook left open on the table. She had flaming red hair, wore little makeup and wore a loose black dress. There was a homemade sign hung…

‘The world is not made up of atoms; it’s made up of stories.’ – Muriel Rukeyser ‘A week? A whole damn week?’ she complained. That wasn’t what she had planned for. But then again, it wasn’t her who’d planned it. in the first place. Rolling her eyes at the sudden, unpleasant thought,…

One day, you decide to take back the lead ropes to your life. To do this, you need to go up to the top floor of the building that is you. You need to knock, say your name, befriend your inner dragon and ask him to share the power. It’s…

The street shines glossy black after the rain. The sidewalk cafes are crowded, and vehicles hiss by—their roar constantly approaching, breaking off, receding. I watch them and hold my breath, forgetting to blink. I am alert, but null. The restlessness of the city mirrors mine tonight, and slowly softens it.…

Sipping on coffee, I contemplate the bunch of contradictions screaming at each other on the paper in front of me. Some tell my stories in more detail than I’d like, while others tell me the stories I’d like to hear instead. Good. It means I’ve written it all down, and…

‘Tell me everything,’ he says. It’s getting darker outside, and his room feels colder. ‘Like what?’ ‘I don’t know. Everything, from the beginning.’ I smile and bury my head in his pillow, imagining the love that could grow in his heart for the baby I was before I became his…

Sometimes little things tip me into euphoria. Sitting at a bus stop at sunset, the warm wind rushing in every direction through my dark hair, over my naked, golden skin. When I close my eyes, I am a mermaid. The coins in my hand are seashells. I take dips into…

He still thinks this is how I was born. How terribly naive. Sometimes I wish he’d realise that my cells didn’t decide to man up and learn some coolness when they put me together. That was my mind, many years later, laying out in front of me a detailed plan…

November rain is cutting through the stillness of the day, like a reminder to be present—a reminder that they are finally together, even without much to say to each other, and that maybe they shouldn’t drift apart from each other yet. It’s still early, and conversation is hard to hold.…

The old wooden staircase, the black bricks in the wall, and the large plants on the sides of the stairs all gave her goosebumps when she first entered the building. Her body felt heavy, like it was wrapped in layers of questions and blank spaces that she could not get…

During their first months of dating, he often asked‘What are you made of?’and his eyes were always wide and hungry for her. She just smiled a little and said‘I have no idea’And kissed him with hot, burning lips.

It was late November. Or April. Or August. I guess it could have been Christmas, but most cafés would have been closed—and where else would I have run into him? I’d say it was New Year’s Eve, but that would create too much pressure for one day. When is the…

There are nights when I still burn with passion for all the things we’ve done and for all the things we could still have done. On those nights, I don’t sleep at all. I toss and turn in my bed for hours, fervent and longing and alive. Other nights I…

There is a beautiful apartment above the bakery. It is welcoming, relaxing, with a touch of elegance and sophistication. It’s where he first time, he said those magic words to her, and for the first time she touched his face with new love on her fingers and warmth in her…

He’s been staring at me for a few minutes now, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. I tried to make a joke to show him that I was fine, but he didn’t believe me. Of course he didn’t believe me. ‘What did he do to you this time?’ ‘Who’s he?’…

It’s summer, dark and quiet up here. Imagine the heat, the lights, the sounds—and the girl, curled up on the black wooden chair, chin propped on her knees, gazing absently over the city. I bend over the table to pick up the pack of cigarettes and take one out. I’d…

He said he was going to write a story about us. I took it seriously. Later I found out that it was. I was thrilled to hear that we could inspire someone to turn us into literature, even if no one would ever read it. Maybe some stories aren’t meant…

I know you’re real, but you have imagination stains all over your face. I’ve filled up all the gaps with cotton candy and fell in love with a man who brings me poetry, mystery and desire. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted from you. I just wish I could be sure…

It was summer when, night after night, we fell asleep with fast hearts and hurried dreams of sunlight, fresh air, and new adventures. You kneading my spine and pulsing through my veins, me telling myself that happiness never hurt anyone and, if worst came to worst, misery is always refundable.…

In my world, I let you see right through me. I listen to my truth on every radio, I decorate the walls with beautiful paintings of my most precious memories, and I have large windows in every room. From here, you can see right into me. Those trees over there?…

Our bodies brushed together. I was getting closer and closer. For a while I remembered what it’s like to be young and scared and to want so badly to give yourself away, because you don’t know what to with all that’s been given to you. You do it with your…

Art, I suppose, is when you create life and meaning and out of nothing, and not everyone in the world hates it at the same time. You take the nothingness, thick and sticky, and you shape it. It’s fun and wonderful and imaginative, and it satisfies everyone’s fantasy of playing…

‘There is another world, but it is in this one.’ – William Butler Yeats ‘It’s 3 am,’ I say. What I really mean is, I want to go. Even though I don’t really mean that, but now isn’t the time. Not the time to make my way into his heart…

In the beginning, he taught me about fear. I liked that one, so I decided to remember it. ‘Why do you speak of fear in the third person? Fear has no identity. You are the fear.’ He also taught me about the ugly side of love. I hated that one,…

‘How did you become you?’ he caught himself asking, rather loudly. She laughed. ‘What do you mean by me? What do you know about me so far, so I know where to start?’ He took his time. She was the slightly unusual type—his type. She could probably open her heart…

I had a crush on your mind since I first walked through your doors, all marked Private. I liked what I found inside, and I didn’t think twice about the signs. I looked around hungrily and imagined changing the locks, pulling out the Welcome Home mat, and maybe cleaning up…