Lauren Kawamoto

“Through the Lens, Redemption” by Lauren Kawamoto

Hope was a false thing.   She’d truly believed that returning would make the loss less of a gaping hole where her liveliness and innocence had once resided. Before the war, the words coming home had meant safety, a place where she could curl up with her mother or chase down her siblings in glee. But now, coming home meant nothing. She was a shell carved of meat and flicked to the ground to hollow out in the sun.  Her feet had taken her deep through the forested English countryside, forging past broken branches and worn ravines...

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“The Boy on the Edge of the World” by Lauren Kawamoto

Can you hear that? It’s the sound of the world flying to you. Let it come… So were the words that burned in the recesses of his mind as his eyes - dark-lashed, tired, wondering - slowly blinked away the crust rimming his lids and absorbed the expanse of the black, black sky above him. Limbs were nothing. The taste of iron on his listless tongue was nothing. The smell of dark, clear pine ...

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“Pedestrian Life” by Lauren Kawamoto

In a pedestrian life, the wide expanse of the sky is a brewing jumble of gray; charcoal, ashy, pewter, slate, smoke, iron - all tumbling into the unknown to form undistinguishable clouds and puffs of in-between monochrome that cast a gloomy pallor over porcelain, rosy, golden-brown, or deep mahogany complexions shrouded by ever-present smog and a growing sense of what-could-have-been. In a pedestrian life, the tumbling s...

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“A Deep Discussion” by Lauren Kawamoto

Coal-black panels of shadow and ruby-red stripes of firelight flickered against the planes of The Scholar’s gaunt face, pale as a result of many years spent hunched in dusty, sun-sheltered libraries, flipping through thick, heavy tomes and scouring pages upon pages of ancient texts. A golden spark popped and sizzled as it jumped from the crumbling, blackened logs and skittered across the floor. With the toe of his boot, ...

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“I'm......You” by Lauren Kawamoto

The woman sitting in front of a computer tab with an empty Google Docs page, the cursor constantly blinking away, does not look like an illustrious young author. Thin, dark hair tightly pulled back into a bun, therefore accentuating her sharply planed face, straight nose beaded with frustrated perspiration, and wearing a gray, ragged cardigan over a black dress, she seems more of a post-funeral attendant with an inclination for staring at a screen for two hours straight. “Miss Capponi?”The wonderful, thready smell of ri...

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“Strangest Girl I Ever Saw” by Lauren Kawamoto

Submitted to Contest #204

STRANGEST GIRL I EVER SAW SOMEWHERE IN THE OHIUS PLAINS CRACK flies the bullet, BOOM thunders the horse’s hooves, and SMASH comes the sound of shattering pride.  He howls and howls and howls, a terrible noise that could suck up all of the world’s despair if given the chance as he topples from his stallion, hands flying to the new...

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“From One Leader to Another” by Lauren Kawamoto

Submitted to Contest #202

FROM ONE LEADER TO ANOTHER Alina Stewart stood over her best friend's crumpled body as the clock behind her ticked quietly. Her hands were outstretched in front of her as if trying to grab something in the distance. A drop of blood rolled off of her finger, hitting the floor with a splash. Despite footsteps down the hallway, she didn't flinch, fighting the rising hysterical chuck...

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