© Cheney Meaghan Giordano 2026. All Rights Reserved.

Posts Taggedstories

1000 Stories


So many people believe in a god or gods who will determine their afterlife.

I had a friend who believed every dead person would rise when Jesus returns.

“How will we all fit? What’ll we eat?”

“There will be plenty for everyone.”

Then the one who believes in reincarnation:

“I met you in this life, and I’ll meet you again.”

That’s what I said as I kissed her forehead before walking away from the last time.

“I love you, Gram, I’ll see you again. I’ll see you again.”

Truth is, I’ll believe in anything not to have to say goodbye.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories

The girls were sleeping in two rows in the living room, tucked close together in their sleeping bags, but Mara was awake and staring at the thing hiding in the corner.

It was blacker than black, darker than the darkness, and she couldn’t tell if it was moving closer to her.

“Amy, Amy,” she smacked the girl beside her.

“What?”

“There’s something in the corner.”

“What?”

“Something is here with us!”

“Just go back to sleep.”

It was then that Mara’s heart started pounding, thinking she was alone in dealing with the darkness, not knowing that she always would be.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories


There was that time we were together and not together, when we shared space but not a life.

I can’t forget how much it hurt the days I couldn’t touch you, and how sad it was to even smile at you, because I was crying inside.

We’re never going to be friends now, you and I. If this ends, it ends.

I can’t live in a world where you’re right there and I’m over here and you won’t reach out and touch me.

Eternally platonic, I would have broken to pieces, doing everything I could to feel your love again.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories


He tore her heart out with the grace of a dancer.

First he spun around her and pulled her clothes away, baring her nakedness that she tried to cover, but couldn’t.

He scalped her, ripping off her golden hair, relishing the blood that was pouring in waterfalls over her pretty face.

He stabbed at her, cut her, slashed her, and when she was crying in a ball on the ground, he yanked her back to her feet.

With a flourish, he waved in the air and then plunged into her chest.

She went down again, her heart in his hand.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories

They were gliding along the water and trying to look away from the trash floating in the canals which were overflowing some banks with their dirty, murky water.

Wasn’t this supposed to be the city of love and romance?

Wasn’t this worthy of Harrison Ford saying “Ah, Venice,” over and over again?

The water is rising everywhere they go.

The garbage is piling up, the land fills are full.

“Maybe we should shoot our trash into space.”

Or maybe we just float along this water, close our eyes, and pretend like everything is beautiful, the way it always should be.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories


This wrinkle on my forehead is new.

I’ve been watching it grow for a few years now, and first it only showed when I smiled, but now it’s still there when I’m not, so, that’s new.

I have these little hard hairs growing out of my chin.

Whiskers I have to pluck every other week or so, even though I’m probably the only one who knows they’re even there.

And what’s with this red, dry skin on my face, and the way it aaaaaalmost seems like my hairline is moving back?

This getting older thing has its drawbacks, you know.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories


It’s hard to find butterflies here, or even flies.

There are bees, though, they’re always hanging around Washington Square Park, buzzing around the sticky sweet juice dripping down your hand from the popsicle you got at the ice-cream stand.

You block out the sound of traffic and listen to the rasta drum beats and smell the weed that’s everywhere now, and the whole time this warm breeze of city filth swirls around you.

In the middle of the biggest city you find a flower ridiculously alive, crawling from a crack in the concrete.

It’s the bravest thing you’ve ever seen.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories

My home reeks of flowers, and not in a good way.

There are just too many. Bouquet after bouquet that arrived like clockwork at ten every morning with a new way to say “I love you.”

I do love flowers, and I love the diamonds he gives me; I love the trips we take on his private jet to glittering cities like Paris and Tokyo.

But the flowers, they’re suffocating me.

It’s too much.

It’s too much to feel like you’re the center of someone’s world, too much to feel like someone’s happiness depends on you.

I don’t want this.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories


Goodbye to all the people who said I couldn’t do it.

Peace out to those who never believed in me, and fuck off to those who have hoped I’d fail.

I am up at five o’clock every morning to put words on a page because this is my story and I want to write it and write for a living like I used to.

So be wary, writers, of putting all your eggs in one basket, because if the basket drops, you do, too.

Get up early. Get your butt in the chair.

Wake up your imagination and say hello.… Read the rest

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1000 Stories


The day winds down and you know you’re leaving work only to go home to try to answer the daily question of what the fuck is for dinner?

You’re glad to leave work, but going home has its own stressors.

There’s the child who chews with her mouth open, loudly. There’s the boyfriend whose loyalty you question. There’s the job you love but you’re terrified of losing.

But you open the door and there are flowers on the table; vibrant, bright, ferociously alive.

Their scent is a welcome assault; you breathe and smile.

You never know what’ll be a daymaker.… Read the rest

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