Amy’s Song is Now Available!


Hey everyone!  As promised, I’ve made my short novel, Amy’s Songavailable to purchase.  I decided, since the work is short and I just wanted people to be able to read it without my having to spend a ton of money, to make it available through Kindle.  I am not sure if I’ll publish it in a different way than this, but at this point, I doubt it.  I just wanted it to be available in an easy-to-read and purchase platform.  Since it’s a short story, I didn’t want to spend a lot of money that I don’t have, because I don’t care about making money off of it, so this was the best way for everyone, I think.  It is available to purchase for $0.99, or you can read for free if you have Kindle Unlimited.  Check it out HERE.  I’ll also have a page on this blog for the book, so check that out!

This may very well be the most terrifying post I’ve ever written, to be honest with everyone.  It’s super scary putting your work out there sometimes.  But hey, everyone has to start sometime, right?  Better to try and fail than not try at all!

I’m just happy to finally have a conclusion to this little project from last year.  Now, on to new things!

Until next time.


The Dream

“The Dream”

Dr. Sorosky pushed up his glasses and stared through Caleb.  Caleb was facing away from him, but he could still feel his cold, blue eyes burning a hole into the back of his head.  How long had they been in this room?  Minutes?  Seconds?  Months?  Caleb couldn’t remember, because he couldn’t remember the last time he saw the sun.  All he could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Let’s talk about your dreams, Caleb,” the doctor spoke with a soft, low tone.  “Are you still having the same dream?”

Caleb lost his breath, and turned the side of his face towards Dr. Sorosky.  He nodded his head.

“Tell me.”

He shook his head violently.  Tears welled up in Caleb’s eyes, and he picked at his fingers.

The doctor sighed, “You will never get out of here if you do not talk to me.  We can do this now or another time, but you will talk to me.”

He started to get up from his chair, when Caleb let out a quiet shriek.  “Does this mean you’re ready?”  Sorosky shot a cold glance at him when he spoke.

“Yes,” Caleb spoke in a quiet, defeated voice.  He hung his head, while Sorosky sat back in the chair and pulled out his notebook.

“Go on, when you’re ready.”

Caleb laid back into his chair, his eyes staring at the ceiling.  He focused his eyes and his mind into a small square of mold, and slowly, slowly, drifted.

He rose from the seat, and was alone in a dark hallway.  Blue lights flickered.  Even though the floor felt cold on his bare feet, the air was warm.  He moved forward until he saw a face.  It was a man, smiling.  He had seen this man countless times before, but he did not recognize him.  He was younger than Caleb.

The man walked over to him and gently grabbed his arm, wrapping his around it, and led Caleb down the hall.  They walked quietly together for a while, until Caleb asked, “Where are we going?”

The man let out a chuckle, and replied, “We’re going back home.”

Caleb nodded his head, but he didn’t understand.  He looked around as they walked, but he couldn’t see anything.  The hallway was darkly lit, and the walls looked like stone.  There was nothing.

“Who are you?”

The man laughed really hard at his question and stopped walking.  “I’m someone you should know really well.”

“But I don’t recognize you.”

“I looked a lot different when you last saw me.  But I’m surprised that you don’t remember me this way.”

Caleb tried really hard to remember.  He looked harder at the man, and touched his hair.  A huge clump came off when he did.

“Oh!  Oh, I’m sorry…” Caleb recoiled his hand.

“That’s okay,” said the man, “it’s supposed to do that right now.  Come on, let’s keep walking.”

After a while longer of walking, Caleb noticed that windows started to appear on either side of them, staggered.  He saw people inside the windows, and they seemed to not take any notice of them or the hallway.  He saw a woman with her baby, he saw children playing, and he saw a boy in a hospital bed.  He watched their lives play out, completely silently, and it felt eerie.

“Who are all these people?”  Caleb stopped to focus on a man kissing a woman.  When he looked back at the man, he had aged.  His hair was gone, and he looked frail.

The man smiled at the couple.  “Do you remember this night?”

Caleb squinted.  He thought he recognized the couple, but he couldn’t remember from where.  The woman, he thought, was beautiful.  He wanted to look at her forever, so he stayed at the window until they faded into darkness.

“What’s happening to you?”  Caleb asked the man as he held his hand tightly.

The man smiled, “You were always strong.  And happy.  You were always happy, even when you were sad.”

Caleb looked into the man’s eyes, and remembered.  He remembered everything.  The man smiled and walked back down the hall as the young man he first encountered.  Caleb turned and walked forward until he got to a door.  As he opened it, the sunlight hit his face.  He took a deep breath, and as he let out a sigh, he felt light and free.  He heard Dr. Sorosky’s voice:

“You may go now, Caleb.”

Caleb walked through the door.


Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen

“You Did Not See Me”

You Did Not See Me

When I walked into the room
You didn’t turn to look
You didn’t see my face
You didn’t see my eyes
You sat there staring into the wall.

I said, “I’m leaving now.”

Your fingers gripped the cup you were holding
But you did not look
You did not see the tears in my eyes
You did not see the tremble in my lip
You did not see me leave.

My footsteps echoed down the hall
The silence rang in my ears
My thoughts looked forward
My heart listened back
And it heard the creak of your chair.

You did not come
There was no ending
I just left, and you stayed there forever.

Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen



“Now and Tomorrow”

I don’t normally write love poetry, but I found this little one in my journal.  Enjoy.

“Now and Tomorrow”

When the scariest moment
Was telling you I loved you
When I just couldn’t find the words
But my heart spilled onto the page
And the music sang out in the sky
You made me free.
We have more than a song
We have a band, a lifetime
I have the world in your eyes
I want to live in it now, with you.

To say I’ll catch the stars
And put them in your eyes
Would not begin to do me justice
All I have is my heart
And the promise that it is yours to keep
I love you now
And I want this moment to last forever.

Copyright 2009 Meg Swensen

For more creative writing, click HERE.

“Do the Tears I Cry Fall to the Floor?”

Do the tears I cry fall to the floor?
No, they are buried inside
Burning, burning all hope of pain and sorrow
Until the keeper comes to make the bed
This cut doesn’t bleed, but laughs out loud
And I am left dead in the darkness
She touches my face and I hate her cold fingers
As they scratch little holes in my wall
She calls to him, and he walks with one eye on the side of his face
I reach to him but he is not there and neither is she
And the holes are actually my heart.

Copyright 2009 Meg Swensen

“Reflections on Light”

OK, this week I decided to do something different.  I’m going to share a poem I wrote, circa 2009.  I may do that occasionally.  Share old things.  Enjoy.

“Reflections on Light”

When will these winds stop blowing blue?
They’ve got me considering my own condition too
Old books, they batter my Muse
None of my pages are bare with you.

Shadows of the seen
Shadows of the green
Shadows of the dream
Shadows of light between the seams of the beam

To seek the syncing beat of time
I’ll find no inspiration in color this time
Not when nothing in my mind seems to rhyme
It gives me chills to know all these pieces are mine

Last night I dreamt that I lied
Shot in the head, but did not die
The light on the wall was my guide
But I just sat there with my hands full of knives.

Copyright 2009 Meg Swensen

Letters from Lily

Jake rested his hand on her coffin.  It was a dreary and rainy day, and he smiled to himself.  He thought how much she would have criticized how cliche it was that it rained on her funeral.

There were over a hundred people at the funeral.  Friends and family came and cried and left roses.  People were most sympathetic to Jake, even more so than her own parents.  Everyone knew what she meant to him.

He hadn’t really brought himself to mourn her death yet.  To him, Lily was playing a cruel joke and would pop up behind a bush at any moment.  He dreamed about her every night – about them laughing and her smile.  Jake couldn’t accept that he would never see his best friend again.

When the funeral was over he went back to their apartment and sat on her bed.  He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  Her room really was messy.  She hated cleaning.  He absentmindedly felt around her mattress, and pulled out a book.  He knew she kept a journal.  He rubbed it with his fingers while he decided if he wanted to open it and read it.  Again, he was afraid she’d catch him in her elaborate hoax.

He opened it.  Lily wrote about everything.  Not about the day to day things, but she wrote about all her feelings.  Jake’s face contorted to an ugly mess and tears ran down his cheeks.  He leaned back on her pillows and read and cried for hours.  When he finally got to the end, at a blank page, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.  But when he looked back down, there was writing.

“I can’t come back, Jake, but I love you.”

Jake tossed the book to the other end of the bed.  Clearly, he felt, he’d gone crazy and just missed something when he was reading.  He carefully picked up the book and looked at it again.  The page was fresh, but the writing remained.  He stared at it.  There was no more writing after that one.  He looked around the room.  Maybe she knew something beforehand?  Maybe she meant to leave the message?  Maybe it meant something else?  He shook his head.  He looked at the journal again.  There was more writing.

“I can’t see or hear you, but I know you miss me.  Don’t miss me too much.”

He didn’t know what to think, but he decided to go along with it.  Besides, even if he was going crazy, there was no one around to see it.  He grabbed a pen from Lily’s desk and wrote in the journal.

“I love you too.”

Then he waited.  After a while, he paced the room, but he waited for a long time.  He looked at the journal one last time.


Jake decided to put the journal under the bed and go to sleep.  He once again dreamed of Lily all night, and saw her once again.  When he awoke the next morning, he ran to her room and grabbed the journal and flipped through the pages.

All the writing from the night before was gone, including the things he wrote.  Not one mark.  He shut the book for the last time and smiled.  Lily did catch him after all.

Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen

The Man with Cold Hands (Part Three)

Part One
Part Two

I shivered.  I couldn’t get away from The Man’s voice.  It resonated through my whole being.

Should I fight back?  Should I try and escape?  A million thoughts ran through my mind while I scanned the room looking for a door.  Or a weapon.

Then I saw it.  A scalpel.  The metal gently glittered in the tiny bit of light that was in the room.  I quietly moved over to the table, grabbed it and held it tight while I crouched down.  My legs were in severe pain.  I could barely feel my toes.  There was an aching in my belly that I couldn’t place either.  Perhaps hunger.

I saw The Man’s shadow move towards me.  I jumped up and swung the blade wildly in the direction of The Man.


I stopped and faced him.  I had cut him across the chest, but he was not bleeding.  He smiled as he stepped closer to me and reached his hand to my face.  His hand was cold as he gently stroked my face.

“Poor thing,” his voice whispered a low grumble.  “You don’t even remember.  I wonder what they did?  I know you can hear me, but I wonder why I can’t hear you?”  He continued to touch my face as he spoke.

My fear subsided, but I was confused and angry.  I hit his hand away and stepped back.  He cocked his head to the side while his eyes looked me over.  He then suddenly straightened up, and clapped his hands together.

“My dear, our bodies weren’t meant for this.  It’s time to leave now,” his voice carried with authority.

He reached out to me once more, but this time, the skin on his arm seemed to stretch out.  It stretched and tore to pieces, falling like rubber to the floor.  I gasped, and stared in wonder at the arm that was left coming towards me.  It was like soft, slimy leather, and a dark forest green with flecks of shiny purple bumps.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, so I touched it, and the ridges and scales moved under my hand.  There were no fingers, but rather one long appendage that seemed to stretch for miles.  It wrapped itself around my waist and up to my face.  I wrapped my arms around the slimy arm of the creature and nestled my face into it.

The rest of The Man’s skin tore and fell to the floor.  He grew upwards and outwards and let out a giant moan.  His enormous blob-like body heaved with every breath he took.  I looked up to his mind (for he had no eyes) and I grabbed his arm even tighter.

“There you are,” the voice sighed.  “I told you I’d always find you.  Now it’s time for you to take off your suit.  Let’s go home, my love.”


Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen

The Man with Cold Hands (Part Two)

Part One

My eyes widened.  Was he speaking to me?  His lips didn’t so much as twitch.  How could I hear him?  I looked around the room, slowly pulling myself up from the floor.

The Man continued to stare at me.

“Is your mind empty?  Why do you not answer me?”  The voice growled in my head.  I was frightened, and I backed away slowly from The Man.  Of course my mind wasn’t empty.  Inside, I was screaming out for help, but no one, not even The Man could hear me.

“Perhaps it’s that box,” The Man turned his eyes to the ceiling, “or perhaps you’re one of them.  I will find out.”  He turned his face back to me, his eyes fading with sadness, “I wonder if you know.”

The darkness in the room broke with light from the door opening.  I could hear the precise heels of the woman in white as she walked through the room.  I looked down to The Man, but his eyes were closed and his face returned to a death-like expression once again.  I sighed with relief.  I knew my mind was failing.  I didn’t know for how long though.  I couldn’t remember where I started.

I could hear the woman walk through the glass into my box, but I faced the other way.  I felt sicker every time she came.  I felt more pain.  I felt weaker.  I cried, silently, for what felt like the first time in my life.


The sound ripped through my ears to my head.  It was louder than loud, and I couldn’t even hear the silence anymore.

I whipped around and found myself standing face to face with The Man.  Laying at his feet was the woman in white, her neck broken.  He stepped over her body and walked up to me. He bent over and sniffed me like an animal.  He smiled.  “I know who you are,” the voice echoed in a melodic tone.

I ran.  I ran out of the glass box.  I ran through the dark room, but I couldn’t find the door out.  In fact, I couldn’t find a door at all.  So I hid in the darkness.  Someone was coming.  Someone had to come.  I pressed my hands to my hears, trying to block out the sound of his voice.

“You can’t even run from me,” The Man’s voice whispered.  “I will always find you.”

Part Three

Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen

The Man with Cold Hands (Part One)

The light was bright and my eyes were hazy.  I couldn’t remember how long I had been here.  In fact, I’m not even sure where I was.  The room was dimly lit, and I couldn’t really see how big it was, or even what else was in the room.  It seemed my eyes didn’t really work very well.

Every single day was the same routine.  A woman in white would come into the glass box in which I spent my time, and she would poke me with needles and pull at my skin and hair.  She always smiled at me, but her eyes were dark and cold. Her hair was a light blond, and in tight curls close to her head.  The color on her cheeks was artificial.  Even though I was scared of her, I couldn’t scream or yell out.  When she was done, she would stroke my arm and say, “All done.”

I lived in a glass box.  There really wasn’t much more to it.  There were no doors.  Part of the box would disappear so the woman could enter every day, but when I touched it, it was solid glass.  I had a small bed.  Most of my time I spent pacing around, looking through the glass, and staring at The Man who was asleep on the table in front of the glass box.  He never woke up, so I would watch his chest rise and fall with his deep breaths.  He had no clothes, only a sheet that covered him and his arms and legs were bound to the table.  His skin was almost a glowing white, but his hair was dark.  He looked unreal, like a wax figure, because he had hardly any color.

Today, I knelt down on the floor.  My legs were in pain and my toes were numb.  But I wanted to look at The Man.  I fogged up the glass with my breath and traced his figure with my thumb.  Leaning my forehead on the glass, I lightly tapped with my finger, so as to not make too much noise.

The Man opened his eyes.

I quickly shot back to the other end of my box, breathing heavily.  I slowly crawled back over.  His eyes were looking directly at me.  One was pale blue and the other dark green.  I tapped the glass again.

The Man blinked.

I was afraid, but I smiled at him.  His face was stern, but curious.  Then I heard a voice boom gently in my mind:

“Where am I?”


Part Two

Copyright 2014 Meg Swensen