Sister, Savior [Prose]

"It's okay, Piper. It's going to be okay."
With every disaster I've had to face, my memory holds Rylee as more vivid than anything. She's the warmth that surrounded me, keeping me from shaking like fall leaves facing a hurricane. My older sister made it her personal mission to keep me safe from everything, even myself.
"Hold on tight. I won't let you go."
We fight, screaming until our throats are sore and tears have dried across our cheeks. We disagree, using a passive aggressive silence to demonstrate our displeasure. We laugh and love and live at one another's sides.
Sometimes, though, I think Rylee forgets to live her own life. She's so worried about taking care of poor, fragile Piper that she doesn't work hard enough keeping herself together. She's so strong, to the point where I can't see passed the walls she puts up, sometimes. Is she a warrior, fighting for a better life...or a toy soldier, playing the role she's cursed herself with, forevermore?
Rylee knows not to force me, the way our parents always tried to. 'Speak up, Piper. Don't be shy.' Because that always helps a girl get over her social awkwardness. She doesn't push me, but there are gentle nudges, urging me to be myself, but actually let someone see it. There's a story behind the shy walls I put up, just like there's a story to Rylee's strength.
I guess that's why I chose to work as a medical examiner, and she chose detective. We're still close, in the same building even, but there are a few floors between the basement morgue and Rylee's desk. Sometimes we work on the same cases.
I speak for the dead...and Rylee talks to the living.
Seems like a fair enough trade to me.

Jazelle Handoush | 2014

While Others Shine [Six Word Story]

Some memories cut
like broken glass.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

Even If It Hurts [Six Word Story]

I'm not sorry
for loving you.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

The Scribbler [Poetry]

What a lonely art;
that of a scribbler and ink stainer.
An artist speaks of the beauty
his subject possesses as he
immortalizes her upon a canvas,
and a musician laments to all
who hear,
but a writer speaks
only to her page.
This ink I stain is lonely, 
this page blank without my company,
this art requiring on myself, 
a thoughtful mind,
and a means to scribe.
What a lonely art, that of a scribbler,
but with every word you, dear reader, see,
I find myself less alone.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

Falsified Security [Haiku]

I’d rather be safe
in your arms, lulled by your voice,
than by siren songs.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

But Never My Mind [Six Word Story]

My heart has
always been yours.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

Imperfect Fit [Six Word Story]

I'd like to refund 
this heart.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

2am You [Poetry]

We all write about a 2am somebody.
When the rest of the world melts away, scared off
by the sight of the moon, that someone who steps out
from the shadows to save you.
But I don't want a 2am someone who only seems
to appear when the world is dark.
Selfishly, I want a somebody
who wants to be there despite sunrise or set,
who doesn't scare off because of shadows or
who only appears in the light.
We all write about a 2am somebody...
but I just want you.

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

Harrow Hatchling [Poetry]

If I told you there was a bird entrapped within
the bars of a shining, silver cage, would you think
her trapped, or well-off?
Would you leave her there to sing her tunes,
the saddest maudlin melodies, and think them a
stunning sound?
Is she blessed to have so much, though
never permitted to fly beyond
the limitations of her harrowing cage?
Do you see the beauty of the bird
and hear a sweet song, or the image of a girl
crying out she's treated wrong?

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush

Monster May I [Seven Word Story]

What did I
fall in love with?

© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush