horror, 1.1 (150)

we were in the third decade of working on delaying death: by this point we had managed to administer trials which let people live healthy lives until they were 145 years old. after that, their mind and body would slowly deteriorate. death sped up after that. there seemed to be a counter too: for every… Continue reading horror, 1.1 (150)

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a social lesson (150)

It was the year 1712 and the Countess was hosting for the first time, finally declared ready by Mama to be a hostess. Normally, Mama or her sister were the ones to prepare - instead, Mama had decided she needed the knowledge and lesson for the centuries yet to come. She waited by the curving… Continue reading a social lesson (150)

Illusory

Flash Fiction July, 13 The building before me is impressive, stretching up as far as the eye can see and carved elaborately into half a dozen tall sculptures, half form and half function. They're weathered, no longer sleek and glossy but rough and dry from keeping their occupants sheltered from storms for the last 251 years.… Continue reading Illusory

uncapped (150)

we're not free, you know, you spoke lazily, allowing the words to drift around you like smoke before dissolving into the atmosphere, absorbed. i allowed myself to drift through the words, wandering through the air. perhaps if i run my fingers through the air i'd catch them, examine them - set them free again. i… Continue reading uncapped (150)

Poetry 101 Rehab: Missing

you dreamed that i was missing, and that you could not find me. (it's like you always wanted) and i dreamed you were there, trying to anchor me. oh darling, don't you u n d e r stand yet i am not made to be here for you. (i am not to be with you) and… Continue reading Poetry 101 Rehab: Missing

best served cold

you steal kindness, tenderness. your words are the catalyst, an unwitting trigger. (steal my kindness and repay me with ice) i am a vengeful creature. i think you should have remembered, before you went trying to take the best of me. (vengeful: plotting for days, weeks) and in the end, i decide - you will… Continue reading best served cold

It’s Not a Ghost That Haunts Me

"I killed a guy."Her voice is so quiet that even with my excellent hearing, I can barely hear her, and I'm sitting directly across from her. The cafe fills up with people, looking like some high school group. They pile into one of the bigger booths far away and her eyes flick to them, paranoid… Continue reading It’s Not a Ghost That Haunts Me