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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I’ve come to realize that loneliness is not most poignant in actual solitude, but rather when one is completely unacknowledged in a crowd of their peers. And this state of being, it’s not quite nonexistence so much as it is standing in the shadow of a giant Social Monster that always has its bac...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    You probably don’t remember, but I still do. We met on that special morning all those years ago, your eyes so wide with starry delight and childlike adoration. You told me I was your favorite. My story you could not read, so you tore it from my wrist and deemed it all irrelevant. You didn’t c...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    Nothing is clean in this place. It started from the center—something hatched there. It tumbled from its scaly shell in a hideous squirm, unfurling leg after leg, putrid and slimy. It rose from its membrane, naked and newborn, an incarnate of evil. “Seek another,” it commanded through the he...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I don’t know why I said okay. I was never exactly the life of the party, and people spoke without the slightest bit of sarcasm when they called me a wet blanket, a Debbie Downer, etcetera, etcetera. On that day, though, I was something different. I said okay. We were just going to peek around, ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    I watched, prone on the highest hill as the world churned over my head. The ground was soft against my skin, the fine grass bending sweetly beneath me; a million spineless servants cradling me atop my noble pedestal. The trees standing along the horizon grew shadowy and bleak, my entire sphere of vi...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Eight is building lopsided snowmen with charcoal eyes Whose watery graves prove an unpleasant surprise Eight is capturing pet ladybugs Kept hostage in boxes dark and snug Eight is double-scooped chocolate cones in summer But splattered on the sidewalk, it's a bawling bummer Eight is an ag...

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