Anca Dunavete

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…

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. You see, I 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…

It was summer when, night after night, we fell asleep with fast hearts and hurried dreams of sunlight, fresh air and brand 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…

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

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

Art, I suppose, is when you create life and meaning 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 your deepest fantasy…

‘There is another world, but it is in this one.’ – William Butler Yeats ‘It’s 3 a.m.,’ I say. What I really mean is, I want to go. I don’t really mean that, but now isn’t the time. The time for what, you ask? Well, not the time to make my way…

Shinedown – Amaryllis ‘I don’t want to tell you who I am,’ she whispers just as I’m thinking how much I want her to keep talking. I want her to talk to me until I know enough to make her the main character of a novel I’d never even thought of before…

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 her. She laughed. ‘What do you mean by me? Or rather, 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…

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