Some dangers do not disappear—they remain, unseen and unchanged.
***
Ponds in the park –
Still.
Park benches –
Stationary.
Little. Grey. Paths.
Unmarred.
Life –
Paused.
***
The space
To quiet to be lived.
Even the air is devoid
Of presence.
Silence and Stilness.
Faces should show smiles
But pout.
***
A child’s toy –
Left wating for him.
A cup of coffee-
Left waiting to be sipped.
A new dress on the bed –
Left waiting to be worn.
Torn.
***
The park-
Not empty, yet full.
The benches –
Not gone, but seated.
The people –
Still present.
***
What stayed –
lingered.
What could not be seen –
Surfaced.
What ascended –
Haunted.
***
Original poem by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin to mark the 40th year since the Chernobyl disaster on April 26,1986.
Writers, you know this truth:
the mind is the most dangerous place a story can live.
Mirrors of the Mind is a collection of psychological horror—
not built on monsters, but on what lingers beneath thought, memory, and perception.
If you’re drawn to restraint, implication, and endings that stay with the reader long after the final line…
this one’s for you.
Because sometimes, the scariest thing you can write
is what you never fully show.
Find it here.
