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Continue reading →: SoundmirrorYou can only find it if you listen very quietly and if you know the sound of your own breathing, for this pool is a mirror, and its reflection is your voice.
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Continue reading →: Fine, Stephen King. You win this round.Fun fact: I did not go to school for writing. I have never even taken so much as a college extension course on how to do any of this. I’m just some rando who thinks she might have some cool ideas rattling around and may be able to express them…
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Continue reading →: Shrieking Feral ToddlerThere’s a fuzziness that hits the brain at the exact moment an Important Thought begins to crystalize, and this fuzziness is static shaped like an asteroid strike aftermath. The asteroid is the bird-of-prey shriek of the feral toddler, comprised of needle-textured timbre and opera-worthy vibrato. The feral toddler is the…
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Continue reading →: Old VinylThe slender fingers of Luisa Ortiz lift the arm of her grandfather’s record player and set the needle gently on the old vinyl. She has done this every day since his funeral three years ago, and will do it again tomorrow. The machine itself is delicate and meticulously cared for.…
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Continue reading →: The Fire and the WheelYou stick to the old town anymore, and that suits you fine. These clapboard sidewalks haven’t changed much, or at least not as much as everything else ‘round these parts. What few tourists wander through this district find it charming. A throwback. Mark Twain and Black Bart and panning for…
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Continue reading →: The Soaring StarletEven with the net, the riggings, the adrenaline, the roaring crowd and the bright bright lights, she was afraid to fly. Always had been. Her heart could soar like a trapeze when watching the aerialists whizzing about overhead, but each time she tried to climb the ladder, willing herself to…
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Continue reading →: NumbubblesShe counted silently along, measuring her breaths deliberately as she always did, watching them creep up and over the lip of the slender glass flute one or two or three at a time. At first they had come up foaming, all the individual bubbles pressed close together. Did that count…
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Continue reading →: There Was a Flower.One year after the last person walked down this street, a bloom followed a bud that followed a stalk. Under the ice that hadn’t melted in months, under the ice that must be four inches thick at least, there was undoubtedly a flower. I leaned my elbows on the sill…
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Continue reading →: Piercing-Sucking Mouth PartsMy mother is an entomologist, or rather a forest pathologist who has studied a lot about bugs and their parts and their functions. She says a lot of freaky space alien sounding things about her work, but really that’s just how bugs are built. My favorite thing she talks about…
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Continue reading →: Adopt a Feral Horse!Oh yeah dang, the very last thing a feral horse needs right now is my broke, frightened, overworked, underpaid, tiny apartment dwelling ass. Nice try, social and ecological responsibility lifestyle research newsletter, or whatever you are that I know I put my email address into the contact form for like…
Hello,
I’m Friday
…and I’m so glad you’re here! Welcome to a newb author creepy care bear’s brain dump space. This is a silly place, a sad place, and a scary place. How neat is that?
Friday is writing creepy bummers. 