Comments Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com
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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 away – far away from her little cottage on the side of the lake.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 11.26.2013 @ 5:46 am
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 cocktails, or the gasoline, or the orgy we had on the steps later.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 11.15.2013 @ 7:33 pm
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 blowing her hair to one side and now she’s slamming the printer because it’s dry. Out of ink.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 09.26.2013 @ 6:08 am
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 airplane together.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 09.12.2013 @ 5:37 am
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.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 09.10.2013 @ 4:51 pm
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.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 09.03.2013 @ 10:57 am
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 intern for other companies!” And below that was the article: “Why you will pay more for college than anyone else has ever paid, ever.” I’m considering moving to Alaska and making multi-media collages made from eagle feathers and birch bark for the rest of my life.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.06.2013 @ 4:56 am
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 careful and conscientious than these screamers and biters and smackers around me. I was going to show them, looking at them with a discerning judge’s eye, at six years old. I would never be louder than anyone else – that way, everyone would listen to me when I finally spoke. In a moth’s voice.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 05.17.2013 @ 11:27 am
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.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 05.13.2013 @ 12:16 pm
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 visible to everyone else and they were visible to her. She could not hurt them, but was so afraid of hurting them.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 04.30.2013 @ 11:52 am
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 yelled for her mother and father, and for her overturned life.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 04.28.2013 @ 8:54 pm
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.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 04.28.2013 @ 4:22 pm
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.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 04.18.2013 @ 7:25 am
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 filling out paperwork for the office. When I was finished, I turned my attention to the package. The skull was black, and with my limited layman’s knowledge of geology, looked at least a hundred years old. There was a handwritten note on yellow parchment poking out of the skull’s eye. After I had finished examining the thing dispassionately, I picked up the paper and read it: “There’s more where this came from.”
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 11.20.2012 @ 11:26 am
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.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 11.13.2012 @ 11:13 am
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. Fuck this shit.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 11.10.2012 @ 10:35 am
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 explode in my head. I breathe in, once, and wet passionflowers drip out my nose. My mouth fills with salt and saliva and fishbrains and darkness.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 10.11.2012 @ 11:44 am
the walls were closing in on us. try as we might, there was no way we could run away in
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 10.04.2012 @ 11:41 am
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 strange westerly wind, a strange westerly wind that brought with it a strange smell, something like burnt rubber and fresh flowers.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 10.02.2012 @ 5:55 am
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 to the sea. She disappeared under the tide. In the morning, they checked her for lack of her usual disturbing high-pitched wails that she made. She was gone. The guards scratched their heads. Under the sea, in a clear bubble, the girl and the seal played in a field of grass.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 09.03.2012 @ 2:49 pm
Seemed like every time she got involved with someone “in that way,” there was always a guardian angel around or somethin’ to keep her in check. Like one time, she was at the bridge, makin’ out heavily with some fella she met at the bar, when suddenly a great growl near knocked her unconscious – she stood up and hit her head on a branch. They never did figure out what that noise was.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.28.2011 @ 7:36 am
A story in 25 words or fewer:
Because of what they had done last night, the next day’s sermon about morals made them uncomfortable.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.26.2011 @ 11:39 am
The deer had fourty-two antlers. She had counted them all, in the hour that had passed while staring at the creature outside her window.
It was four AM. Things that were impossible often happened at four AM. The thing with fourty-two antlers was looking straight at her eyes as if it could see into her brain, into all the wild and childish things flying around in there.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.25.2011 @ 1:01 pm
Matt had a history of being creepy. Breathing down necks with his characteristic heavy panting, staring at someone absentmindedly while tugging at the sleeves of those awful turtleneck sweaters he always wore. But this? This was beyond creepy. She fingered the note on her desk, read it for the fifth time: “I like watching you sleep.”
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.23.2011 @ 1:14 pm
The earth is fueled by neverending
trending, trending, trending, trending –
gossip, celebs, stars, and craze
factories filled with murky haze
going green, going out
stylish hair, glossed red pout.
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.30.2010 @ 12:26 pm
“Oof!” Breath shot out of her lungs as she hit the ground, hard. After a few moments she rolled over onto her back. 10 feet straight to the ground. Damn tricky staircases. Would she be able to get up? She grunted with exertion – she HAD to get up. She had been searching for this secret room inside the mine for so long.
By clutching her leg with one hand, and gripping the wall with the other, she managed to slide herself upright, coughing as the dust settled around her…
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.28.2010 @ 10:48 am
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I stopped. She stopped. All around us, people kept walking. I didn’t want them to. I wanted the rest of the world to stop as I had; to freeze, because this was impossible. How could two people, I wondered, live in two different countries and look exactly the same? She mirrored my disbelief, and it was the oddest experience I had ever had to watch myself look flabbergasted…
» Posted By Emilygracevee@gmail.com On 06.16.2010 @ 2:13 pm