• She stared at the lake water, waiting for something to happen. Bits of plastic and old cans floated on its slimy green surface. There were oil swirls on the top of the lake, and below that, layers of algae and muck. She blinked. Something black and finny was stirring beneath the surface. Maybe it was a massive fish, the kind that could ferry her…[Read more]

  • I was a hero to them. Just like I’d always wanted to be! The children clapped and cheered. Several people gave me hand grenades. I whooped like a warrior and Malotov-cocktailed the building. Shards of glass went into the crowd, but nobody cared. The library was burning. A fierce something took hold of my chest and arms and I didn’t stop with the…[Read more]

  • They fucked. In the biblical sense and the non biblical sense. This is the thing that jumps to mind when I see the word “biblical”. I’m typing this in a library. Window set to 50% size so the font is miniscule. Because the girl at the printer to my left is scowling; I don’t think she could take the word “fucked” right in front of her; she keeps…[Read more]

  • She began her own reconstruction by taking herself apart. Her spine split along the column, fracturing like a broken ladder and taking everything along with it – cranium, pelvis, hips, thighs, arms, and finger joints, each clacking neverendingly on the floor. she picked each of her bones up, one by one, and put them together as one glues a model…[Read more]

  • There are mice in here. I hear them twittering shrill and blue, like little knives skittering up and down my wrists, criss cross applesauce. I blink and sniff at them kindly, but they won’t go away. They won’t stop looking at me. That’s the worst; their eyes like flecks of string, peeling and cutting out of line, out of sight. Out of mind.

  • The naysayers, the ravenous blackening strips of hulking flesh that line these barbarious walls. Flush against the floors, iron and satin. Grab them if you have them. Shoplifting shapeshifting tensions, pull a little harder and move a little faster.

  • Jesus Christ. This word sounds too much like college, and the sun is coming up, and I haven’t slept all night, and I checked my gmail for new messages and the first one that hit me in the face said: Emily, would you pay to work for someone for free? I opened it and it informed me: “No, really! Lots of students are paying to export themselves to…[Read more]

  • Self conscious and stoney-faced, like mama taught me to be, I stared at the bright faces puffing away in music class. I couldn’t whistle if my life depended on it. Not around them. It had been two weeks since I’d made the pact with myself and my own mouth. I first told myself I was going to cultivate what came out of my little lips. Be more…[Read more]

  • Her age was six. She had dimples that sprung into her blank face without any prior warning, and her smiles looked out of place, seeing her smile was like the sight of daisies in midwinter.

  • The laughter that echoed down the marble footsteps of the corridor banged around in her flowerbrain. She inhaled the smell of violets and felt them bang her head against the wall again. Or was it all in her head? There was no separation between her world and that world anymore; no protective membrane; the egg had finally cracked and she was…[Read more]

  • The black grey ashes of the sun melted into the cityscape. At the top of the tallest tree on the tallest building was a girl, her face turned to the wind. She yelled the mountains that had lodged inside of her throat; they took root in the soil beneath, in the overturned cars and in the skeletons of the bodies of the people of the dead city. She…[Read more]

  • New birds, cooed the mother pigeon, turning the baby little eggs over with her sharp sharp beak. Her beak could peck a pecan in half in less than the time it took for her to swallow it, but her beak never pierced through the thin shells of the eggs. She wore the bright blue shawl of a common middleaged mother pigeon.

  • Do you know how holes are created? Holes signify that something that was once there, is now lost. Holes in skulls show where eyes used to be; holes in bodies show where skin used to be, and holes in the earth show us places where cities used to be.

  • I received the skull in the mail the day before Christmas. I live alone, and my family is dead, and I have no friends; I was surprised about the big box in the mail, but thought that maybe it was medicine from my health provider for my diabetes, and left it on the table to be opened later. I had a nice, quiet lunch, and watched some cartoons while…[Read more]

  • Rearrange the letters of the word “arts” and you get “star”. That’s what everybody in the arts WANTS to be, but the fact of the profession makes that impossible.

  • God, I want to roar, to pound these fucking laws like a drum. I want to set things on fire. Flames are beautiful. Let them lick my legs and drag me down into their glorious war, let me become flame, let us burn the world as we see fit, eat, drink and be merry on the crackling white-bones of skeleton people with dim aspirations and stagnant hearts.…[Read more]

  • Emilygracevee@gmail.com commented on the post, wet 7 years ago

    I’m forgotten. I’m falling into the ocean with a stone around my neck. I sink into the darkness. All around me are thousands of wet yellow eyes, blinking, like Christmas lights, like fireworks. Song-crackers […]

  • Emilygracevee@gmail.com commented on the post, walls 7 years ago

    the walls were closing in on us. try as we might, there was no way we could run away in

  • Emilygracevee@gmail.com commented on the post, signs 7 years ago

    There had been signs that the world was ending. The sky appeared to be melting, or streaking down itself – blues mixing with reds ending in an oily puddle of yellow and green at the horizon. Acid rain. There was a […]

  • The grey lithe form slipped through the bars of the window. It wrapped around her body. Her body was pale and covered in dirt and blood. It lifted her. It warmed her. It carried her out of the window, carried her […]