I’m sick,
Butterflies in my stomach
It’s too bright,
My eyes can’t see right
I don’t move,
The ground runs beneath my shoes.
A breath caught in my throat
Trying so hard to keep afloat.
I’m ill,
But my disease has no pill
The light turns pink,
As I resist to blink
I don’t twitch,
Don’t even flinch.
Life on pause
As our lives cross
My mouth is dry
But my heart flies
Out of my chest,
What a mess.
It’s in every story
Where this illness makes me happy,
A plague
Cast over us in a haze
Crippled by the one thing we can’t live above
I’ve been diagnosed with love.

2012: A New Race


Here is one of my favorite  short stories. I wanted to make it into a novel but I am quite the procrastinator and 2012 is right around the corner!

2010: A New Race

Back when the world was in chaos, when natural resources were scarce,and people stopped caring about the world  and each other; back when the world was in war, consumed with evil, pollution, and was far from repair, the human race failed. The time  was August twenty-fifth, 2012 and in only a few months, the human race will perish.

August 25th, 2012 1:15AM

     Mika screamed, squeezing her husband, Brian’s  hand.”Breathe, breathe,” Brian soothed, resisting the urge to cry out as he lost all feeling in his hand.
“Push,” the doctor instructed.
Mika cried out in agony until she heard the soft cries of her new baby girl. Then it went black.


     Brian sat patiently next to Mika’s hospital bed, dreading for her to wake up. Mika’s eyes fluttered and she flinched at  the brightness of the lights overhead. “Brian?” She croaked.”Brian?”
“Right here, Sweetheart.”
“Where is she?”
Brian sighed as he broke the new of their baby daughter. Mika screamed and her whole body began to shake.

August 31st 2012 12:05PM

     “She’s out there, Brian. I can feel her.”
Brian knelt beside Mika in the nursery. After they found out they’d be having a girl, Mika insisted on painting the room maroon and decorating it with paintings of exotic flowers. The room was supposed to keep the happy memories  they hoped would  come; but it was only full of the deepest sorrow. “Mika, as  much as I’d love to believe that, we both know she’s gone.”
“You don’t understand, Brian. I can feel her.”
“Mika, we berried her! We saw here dead  body!”
“It wasn’t her!” Mika screamed back before  leaping out of the room.

October 15th 2012 6:15PM

     Mika slammed a stack of paper on Brian’s work desk. “Mika what are you doing here?” He asks irritated.
“Just look,” She says as she closes his office door.
Brian picks up the papers and notices that they’re still warm. Woman claims hospital stole her baby, reads a headline. Another says, Young lady believes she was given shots that killed her baby. “What is all this?”
Mika looked down at her husband disappointed. “Don’t  you see? That’s us! The same thing that happened to us happened to these women. The articles date back to about twenty-five years  from now. What ever happened to our daughter happened to their children too. And they’re all out there… somewhere.”
Brian looked at his wife, his brows pulled together with worry. Her soft brown hair was now matted and dry. Her once wild eyes were now lifeless and dull. “What’s happened to you?”
Mika sighed when she realized he would never believe her. “You’re suppose to back me up, no matter  how crazy I seem.” Brian let her go and flopped his head down on his desk.  The paper with the headline, Woman claims that aliens impregnated her, fluttered to the floor.

December 1st

Dear Mika,
You’re not alone. We need to talk. Stop by tomorrow for tea.
Your neighbor,

December 2nd 12:12 PM

     Mika knocked on her neighbor’s door. “Come in,”called a weary voice. She made her way into the house, and left  into the diningroom. “Sit, Dear,” said the sweet old lady. Mika sat next to Mary-Ann and across from the young man. “Mika, this is my son, Julian.”
Mika’s eyes fluttered in confusion. “I didn’t know you had a son.”
“That is because twenty-five years ago he was taken from me.” Mary told Mika about her mysterious pregnancy. “I thought aliens did it, but I know better now.” During her pregnancy she was given shots through her stomach into the baby. She was told they were vitamin supplements, but they were much more than that. Then after giving birth they took her baby away and claimed it was dead.
“It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I began to realize I wasn’t living a normal life,” began Julian. At the age of sixteen he began to grow suspicious of the “principals” and his school  where  they did drills much more unusual than an army would do. He broke into headquarters only to find he was a science experiment to keep the human race alive. While going  through the files he found his birth mother’s address and escaped.
“The government is taking our babies?”
“Not just the government,” Julian corrected.”This is happening everywhere, throughout the entire globe.”
“When explorers from Europe came they discovered the Mayan calendar and their prediction of the end of the human race. So they teamed up with the Mayan’s to create the perfect race who could survive anything. It took decades for them to get it right. During this trial and error process they used experimental space crafts and the failed test subjects,or aliens, to abduct their people and test on them.”
Mika sat, momentarily speechless. Mary-Ann took her hand,”I know it’s a lot to take in, but it will be OK.”
Suddenly Mika came back to life, standing up so quick the chair scrapped against the floor trying to steady itself. She dropped her fist on the table, determined. “Julian, I want you to help me search for my daughter.”

December 21st 2012 6:15PM

     Mika and Julian sneaked into a private nursery. In the room full of infants, hers was in the corner labeled August 25th. Mika cradled her baby in her arms, when the ground began to shake. Julian took the baby from her. “I’m sorry.” Young men and women evacuated the children as the floor began to crack and the ceiling fell in clumps. Mika sat alone in a corner, shivering in unusual heat, waiting to die.

For my mother and the rest of the human race, December twenty-first was their end, but it was our beginning.

Sneak Peak


Here is a sneak peak into one of my current projects ;]

The wind slaps her face, cold and hard, only she can’t feel it. While kids her age are hugging themselves to keep warm in the brisk winter air, she throws her face into the wind daring it to make her feel. Make her feel anything. Pain, cold, but her attempts are futile because she is numb inside and out.


In Case…


In case you wanted to know a little more about me, here is an essay I wrote in HS:

Life is like a movie montage. I lay back and watch the clips of my past play on the back of my eyelids like a film. Some memories are a blur, and some are vivid. All are significant. All have shaped me into who I am today,

I’m three. This isn’t my first memory, but this is where my movie truly begins. I don’t see the police charge into my grandmother’s kitchen; but I can see my mom with tears cascading from her eyes. I cry too as she speaks words I don’t understand. Now I’m in bed. Dad is leaning over me, saying his goodbyes. I’m numb. When he leaves, I pee the bed. I still don’t feel a thing.

I’m in first grade. My dad is in jail and my mom has a new boyfriend. I hate him. I walk past him as I get off the bus. He yells my name, but I keep walking. I walk into my fifth grade classroom. My curly hair is in knots, sticking up above my head, and apparently I smell. At least that’s what my teacher tells my mom during our parent teacher conference. Mom cries, what can she do to help me? She doesn’t know what to do with dad in jail. Is it affecting me? It hurts to see her cry like that. I want to comfort her, but I don’t know how. I look at my teacher who looks at me expectantly, like “what do you have to say for yourself?” I look back; back to fourth grade when mom gets a call from my dad’s fiancée. He was arrested again, and deported to Jamaica. His last chance to see his only daughter and he failed her once again. I look down to the table, at my project. It looks terrible, and I’ll probably get a seventy on it; but I don’t care. Who needs school anyway?

It’s my first day of middle school, and I’m nervous. I walk into my English class, and my teacher is kind. Maybe school won’t be so bad after all. We’re on poetry week, and I’ve found my calling. As I express my thoughts with a pen on lined paper, it feels right. I start off by writing poetry, but as we work through short stories I realize I’m good at those too. That’s when I knew I wanted to be an author.

When seventh grade comes, I give up again. My hair is hidden under a bandana. I wear one every day because my hair has become un-tamable, and school became unbearable. I wanted to leave. We do. I’m in a new school, and my step-dad is not going to let my grades slip again. I’ll hate him for years. Soon I’ll be thanking him for pushing me.

As my memories flash on the screen, I read my dad’s old letters. I cry and I cry. Through the tears I see, that in a way he was like me. He could write poems that spoke from the heart and gripped your soul. I wanted my work to be that powerful. I take them to school with me and read them in the comfort of the library. I feel calm. It feels like I’m at home as I sit, surrounded by books. I wish to feel like this for the rest of my life. At first I think that I want to open my own library; but then I realize that’s not right. No, I want to open my own bookstore.

With my curls pulled back into a pony-tail, I waltz into the Village Book Market and ask for a job. The owner can’t afford to pay for a real employee, but I agree to help out any way. I sit down at her computer and she teaches me how to catalog books, and the technical terms for describing their condition. It’s not a real job, but I know this is the first step I must take before I reach the second landing.

I open my eyes. The movie is not over, the rest is still being written

Into The Sea


Into the sea,
I let the waves
Wash over me.

Into the sea,
I am where
I was meant to be.

Into the sea,
The water seeps
Into my skin.

Into the sea,
The salt nips
Against my fins.

Into the sea,
The cold becomes
A part of me.

Into the sea,
The fish swarm,
Welcoming me.

Into the sea,
Deep down
Where this is no light.

Into the sea,
I am swallowed
Without a fight.

Into the sea,
Where there are others
Like me.

Into the sea,
I am finally where
I am meant to be.



Congratulations for stumbling upon my blog! Let me introduce myself: My name is Mercedes. I am eighteen-years-old and fresh out of HS. For almost as long as I can remember, I have wanted to write. Even as a child, I didn’t want to play with dolls but with pieces of paper. I like to think I get my creativity from my parents. My mom, who doesn’t write much but when she does it is brilliant! She’s got the best imagination I know and I go to her for advice on my latest projects consistently. Then my biological father also wrote me poems when he was in jail… but that is a different story entirely.