Category: Short Stories
-
Unworthy
I am not worthy. The blood on my hands is not just mine, and it soaks through to the bone. I am not worthy. But these hands of mine still move, the fingers still bend, my arm still reaches, reaches for you. “Pick it up,” I think. It’s a thought from deep inside me, a
-
2: The High Priestess
TW: Animal death Outside, the winter is harsh and cruel, but inside, Enid sits on the floor of the cabin, crouched in front of her open dresser drawer, tearing small pieces off a slice of bread and feeding it to a mother mouse. The mouse takes the bread greedily, eating the first few pieces then
-
0: The Fool
TW: Suicide mention/death Roxy had always been a fan of long drives. Something about the endless nature of the highway soothed her; it felt like a space outside of everything else, outside of time. It was almost like she didn’t really have to be there, not fully. She could set her body to autopilot and
-
Rabbit Season
Once when I was younger, I held my breath until I passed out. It wasn’t because I was bored, I was just angry. I was so, very angry, and my gut reaction was to hold it in, to push it down until it choked me.
Recent Posts
- And There Were Seven Cardinals
- Unworthy
- I Hate My Body (But Not Like That)
- Despite Everything, It’s Still Us
- How to Protest When You’re Scared to Protest
Tags
activisim art boycott conflict death and rebirth diary drama essays ghosts ghost story godliness guilt haunted Horror horror story humanity life cycles marriage mental health moodboards movie analysis movies novel organize peaceful protest Persephone poem poems politics protest rebellion religious trauma sacrament seasonal depression seasons self love short horror story short stories sins uncanny upcoming update weekly thoughts winter writing prompt
