Niall Espen
A Canadian Writer, in-progress, currently in the process of writing multiple projects.
You fumbled with your laptop case as you give yourself one last check in the mirror. You run your fingers through your ravenette hair, and straighten your lavender blouse. You steal a glance at you...
Heather stopped at the antique mirror, checked her reflection. Teeth shone. Her eyes were clear, and so was her skin. She fixed her lavender blouse and her ravenette hair. She took one last glance ...
I pushed the creaky cart, as I looked over my long list filled with veggies. Lots of scribbled requests: her favourite cereal, Bear Paws, chicken nuggets, crinkle-cut fries, chocolate, ice cream, g...
The cup sat on the counter, filled, as it steamed. Its wide brim tempted a peek, a taste, as it enticed curiosity with the lacy designs that flourished inside. The clock ticked overhead. A squirt o...
Her heels clicked hard against the floorboards. She was in the hall with a curse under her breath. I heard the pocket door as it slid into place with a heave. It slammed against the back of its poc...
I hate it when I have such sweet dreams, They’re never as long as they promise. They’re love songs that tell of grandiose schemes built upon forever. Even when forever is only a day.
Shades of pink, goofy smiles. You and I, two morning doves. Sweet resonances of our love. A simple testament of words, So powerful, it’s all that’s needed. A simple, daring act, Before the moon tak...
Laughter arising, bubbling up from deep down. A joyous ruckus. Wiping the tears from my face and looking over the courtyard. Spellbinding. Sitting with new friends. Laughing about days that we met....
Eyes glance and glare. Still, they don’t place themselves upon me. Yet, I feel their stare. Cold and hardened. They don’t see. How could they? They never saw before. No life boat in these waters… W...
A still breath as no more than cries of crickets, song bird wails, croaks of death, and playful clatter of beasts are heard. The smell of dew and distant flower. Birds above floating in that milky ...
A deep dive down to the heart, There’s a quarrel in the dark. Nothing to aid, and certainly no chart.
My fangs bear down on themselves, The collapsing of my chest. Silent screams fill my lungs, telling me of the pain and consequence. A pounding heart filled with passion, only one does it see. Confl...
A still breath as no more than the cries of crickets, wails of song birds, shrieks of death, and clatter of playful beast are heard.
Her tail swishes, her body follows. Joy rings out, clear as day. Not a mouse is stirring, not another soul dares to wander. She searches for her lost heart among the treacherous maze. Something so ...