Samples of work by Ally Stoyel



I don’t think we wander the plains of the universe searching for the other half who is destined to find us and no one else. I think in all the horror of this world, sometimes we meet someone and it could happen instantly or it might take half of our lives to see it. But just sometimes, they open themselves up to us, allowing us to read them like our favourite story. They whisper to us secrets, things meant for a lucky few who walk the same path at certain points in our lives. Sometimes we might find solace in their obscurities, their faults. We are comforted that they are just as strange as we are. Kindred.


THE COLD FIRE                                                                                                  

Close your eyes. Let the colours of the world wash away like paint from a canvas. Let your limbs softly free themselves from their rigid state and lighten, like electricity is streaming from them. Surpass gravity in all of it’s forms. Float gently, free from the hardened earth. Now breathe.

You can’t always believe what they tell you, you know. That everything happens for a reason, that what goes around comes around, that it’s always darkest before the dawn. Because it’s a fucking lie.



The window pane glistens with the sweet droplets of the sky’s tears and frames the restless world outside as I watch it pass by. My skin tingles and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A slight chill washes over me and I shiver, squeezing my eyes closed just a little tighter. I can feel it closing in on me. It’s a cancer that courses through my veins like venom and consumes me for a short while until I force my eyes to open and gaze absent-mindedly at the snow covered branches of the forest outside. Why do we do this to ourselves? Where do we get this destructive will, the morbid desire we have to tear everything apart? Why are we hell bent on destroying ourselves and everyone we see a part of ourselves in?


LETTER OF WAR                                                                                                  

It's been a year since the war ended, a year since the last gun was fired, a year since the last man was killed. But things are better now. The sound of the guns is almost gone but it lingers like the distant ringing of a persistent bell, constantly being rung to remind us of what happened here.


BEYOND THE BOUNDS                                                                                                  

The crickets sing and the moon is high. I scour the starry skies in search of you, feeling the warm spring breeze in my hair.

The river whispers and the Spanish Moss droops, shying away from the world, as I inhale slowly, the sweet scent of magnolias invoking you to the front of my mind, bringing a smile to my face.


COMING HOME                                                                                                  

I’ve known you for a long time. Even before I met you, I’d seen you. A shadow of you. I’d watch you in my dreams standing before me, just out of reach, and I knew that one day I would find you. I would tell you about all of the nights I’d lain away, willing myself to see your face, to tell you that I missed you, even though we’d never spoken.


LOVE AND MADNESS                                                                                                  

I’ve tried to forget you. To bury you deep in a place where you can never claw your way out. Where I’ll never have to stumble over the bones that we left behind. But you always find me. In my nightmares, in my dreams and in every breath that I remind myself to draw to keep on living. If you can call it that.



I think back through the pages of my memory to warm blue days, when I would take your hand in mine and feel your fire within me. The sun would catch in your hair and the light on your face would make you glow. You smiled at me. A smile that could save the entire world from whatever troubles burdened it. A smile that saved my life every time I would see it.