Maddie Rune🥀

When I was small, freedom came in two forms: the bicycle and the book. One gave me escape in motion, the other in silence. With one, I could vanish down dusty roads, with the other, between dog-eared pages and dusk-lit paragraphs. I never needed permission. Just a little light…

After winning a writing contest a few months ago, I decided to enter another. This time responding to the prompt ‘dog’ in 250 words or less: I’m not a violent dog. I don’t know why I bite. My mouth is a memory I inherited. A red cradle passed down the bloodline. Some hunger…

You just don’t get it. The fire never touched my skin. I've been burning at the bone for you. You branded my skeleton. And if love was a lie, I'd still believe it. As long as it came from your lips.

How are we supposed to build a tender, emotionally intelligent society when there's no forehead kiss emoji? We have a shrimp tempura but not the ultimate sign of comfort and love? Civilization is hanging by a thread.

I used to think fresh meant clean. Like the pool we jumped into after the funeral. Bleach and sun and our bodies pretending we weren’t cracked open. But fresh is a lie we tell ourselves when the past won’t stop leaking. The truth is: grief doesn’t rinse off. It burrows in the…

The trailer next to ours burned down on a Thursday. It smelled like melted crayons and what never made it to morning. We rode our bikes past its skeleton all summer, pretending it was haunted. But we knew grief doesn’t haunt, it settles in. It builds a porch, grows weeds and…