Kae Jaye The Writer

Amid every emotional moment throughout the night, no one made it home. No one found solitude. Pillows rested beneath disheveled heads, while restless thoughts and sleepless eyes carried them into the early morning hours. Jason appeared to be the most comfortable of the three. At least physically. He occupied the recliner like a man who had given up trying to sleep hours ago. Leaned back, one leg…

Chapters don’t come blank… they come earned.

Ink ain’t given… it’s bled.

The only way to tell the story right

What shall we create today?

I’m reminded that every day hands me a blank page.

New words. New characters. New plots.

So why sit in yesterday’s story

As Myles approached the five building complex, each with three floors of units Chance marveled at the idea of freedom. “Dad, this is really apartments?” He asked as he hung his head out of the window taking in the views. Myles chuckled, “basically yes, however there are some things we will discuss once inside of your unit.” Freedom felt surreal. He was close, but still so far. The air seemed…

Shea gazed at the condensation rolling down her glass, her fingertips damp from tracing it absentmindedly. She had not realized how far she had drifted until her name pulled her back. “Earth to Shea,” Jason chuckled. “You been gone a minute. Yeah, you’re withholding, and I’m listening.” She smiled softly, cheeks flushed, eyes carrying something she had not possessed in years. Emotion won long…

🎶 Good Morning Gorgeous, sometimes you gotta look in the mirror and say, Good Morning Gorgeous. 🎶 The song mellowed through the speakers she had installed throughout her home, her morning wake-up call. She rolled over, peeled the covers back, stretched, and yawned all at once. Sliding her feet into her favorite bear slippers, she headed to the bathroom to begin her routine. 🎶 All the times that…

Let the pen tell the truth your mouth keeps editing.

Write until the ink stops trembling

and freedom finally feels like yours.

Breathe soft. Speak loud. Exhale love.

Some are buried.

Some are spared.

Some are waiting.

I opened a Patreon called The Bleed Room

for the scenes that never made it to the page,

the moments that shifted the air,

the truths that stayed quiet.

Alternate endings.

POV fractures.

Soft violence. Emotional consequence.

If you’ve been sitting with the story

this is where it exhales.

Patreon is live.