Easy Reading

If You Can Breathe, You Can Do Anything

/ Stuart Danker / 26 Comments

I don’t feel like I can do anything today. But I can breathe. And if I can breathe, I can do something. If I can breathe, I can lift a hand. I can speak. I can walk. I can feed myself.

I can write.

I can write.

I can write.

And I know for a fact that writing has the power to stir. Because I am an audience of this medium as much as I am the performer.

If I can breathe, I can write a book that barely sold ten copies. I can question my choice of vocation, but I can also wake up the next day and try again. I can let others dictate my voice because that pays the bills. I can lose interest in writing, too. Throw away all my dreams and just stop trying.

I can improve my diet, exercise more, spend time with my family, just so I could nurture the creativity that brought me to where I am today.

I can do so many things because I can still breathe. Most importantly, I can write this short piece. And perhaps, in a very weird way, the writing itself is me breathing. A breath I’ve been holding for a very long time.

It’s Okay To Hurt

/ Stuart Danker / 23 Comments

You’ve always felt different from a young age. You grew up being told you weren’t enough.  These would be the voices of a permanent gloom, a cloud that would follow you for the rest of your life.

Yet you try outrunning your cloud. You pick up self-help books. You play motivational podcasts on repeat. You adopt the billionaires’ morning routines. But nothing changes. You’re still you. Only now you take cold showers and meditate as soon as you wake up.

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FICTION: Changing Our Stars

/ Stuart Danker / 1 Comment

Changing Our Stars - Person looking up at stars

This is an assignment for a writing course, and I figured I’d use it as an excuse to post. Enjoy.

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Clara strode through her neighbourhood, street lamps so far apart she spent a bulk of her walk in darkness. Purple clouds blotted the stars, threatening to swallow her whole too.

It wasn’t the best idea, being out at night, but she had to get out of her cramped room; a cramped room that her boyfriend was currently sharing with some skank from God-knows-where. It took all her willpower not to clock him in the head—and that bitch too.

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FLASH FICTION: Undead’s Dilemma

/ Stuart Danker / Leave a comment

“Just do it already.” Julia bared her neck, hair to one side.

“S-so do I just b-bite the jugular? Or?”

Jesus Christ. Even now he’s second guessing himself .

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “What is it you guys usually do?”

“I’ve never done it before all right?”

“Well there aren’t any blood banks here, so I suggest you get to learning. And keep your voice down. Bad enough you roused a pack of carvers. Now you’re gonna get us killed because you can’t handle a little blood.”

It was so dark that Julia might as well have been talking to herself, but she knew that Elu could see the scorn in her eyes. Go on pussyfooting like this and you’ll lose your that night vision in a jiffy.

“B-but what if you turn?”

“Look, Elu.” Julia didn’t know if it was the anger or fear having her speak through gritted teeth. “You don’t do this, you die. You die, I die. Turning stopped being an issue the moment you decided to wander into uncharted rooms. Now are you gonna do it or what?”

“O-okay. Right then. Yes. This might hurt.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

But it did hurt, the exact same way it would if someone stuck a blunt snail-fork in your neck. Julia might’ve whimpered as Elu drew blood… she couldn’t remember. Why is it that when you black out in the dark, the world starts getting brighter?

Despite losing grip on reality, Julia heard the unmistakable wails of the carvers. It was them all right, hungry for blood in a way that Elu will never be. Get strong, she thought. Get us out of here. As she toed the borders of consciousness, Julia summoned the energy for one last whisper: “Whatever you do… don’t look them in the eye.”