what are you even doing out here in the cold? how did you get this far into the forest? tracking through snow for miles, the ice fileting your fingers to the bone with cold.
do you remember how you got here? do you remember why you're bleeding?
do you remember hearing the whispers before? do you remember as a child, when a visitor came and sat by your bedside. they told you a secret, their form made of shadows and smoke. they said to you, "we shall meet again."
363 notes
·
View notes
Gimme that Old Time Religion
This is out today! Find it here. Also available on Kobo Plus, if you are one of the two people who has that. It will be orderable from your favorite bookstore as soon as Ingram Spark gets their acts together (so...probably next week? IDK, why would anyone move fast).
And don't forget book 1 of the series!
Find it here, or you can order it through your favorite bookstore--just give them the ISBN. Also on Kobo Plus.
10 notes
·
View notes
The Lutheran churches are everywhere up here. Their dingy white spires can be seen from a few miles out.
You pass one in River Falls, just outside of town, and then another a few miles after that. After a scenic road to Ellsworth, you see another one in the distance. It's that the last one you saw? But that makes no sense.
You go through some small town you didn't even catch the name of and see two more.
You start driving back home and pass three on the way. Why so many? What do these people from small farming communities need to be redeemed for? Their smiles are friendly when you stop to grab gas or something to eat. But still those spires haunt you, a new one looming on the horizon with every hill crest; just when you've passed one, another pops up.
...At least, you think they're all different. The scenery doesn't really change. The last two gas stations you stopped at were arranged the same. The cashiers looked similar. Middle-aged woman, teased hair last popular in the 90s, smoker's lines on her lips, long fingernails painted lilac purple, too much eyeshadow and yet not enough, and tortoise shell glasses. She was brusque, but called you 'hon'.
One key difference, though: the second lady was more earnest, her brow more furrowed, and she looked at you with mild concern. As you were about to leave, she said "drive safe". A common expression around here during winter and heavy rainstorms, but it was a beautiful day and you had been out on a joy ride for 3 hours...
Maybe you haven't driven very far after all.
44 notes
·
View notes
sitting on a tree stump, staring at the rain.
a chorus of noise drowning out the sounds of impact.
I know this to be true,
the birds aren't chirping to each other,
they're laughing at you.
the sky grows dark,
the drops of rain turn to sheets,
run far from here.
the birds are still mocking you.
86 notes
·
View notes
The corn ate her flesh, my deer
She was dead on the ground to close to the corn
It sprout through her and ate her whole, the corn is blood thirsty ya' know
Be weary or else be lost. This cornfield has n safety net it will eat you and hardly leave a trace
Be careful, never get to close especially not by yourself
They have ears not eyes, but yet they're all knowing
Don't let it draw blood! Don't spill your water unless it draws blood.
Run before they somehow get closer
6 notes
·
View notes
If at some point Tumblr whiffs it, or you just enjoy my ramblings, or you want to make sure you don't miss when book three comes out down the road, you may want to check out my newsletter:
It is basically any other author newsletter except that 1/ I write it; 2/ it comes out roughly once per month; 3/ sometimes I put in photos of my cat.
Also it's a good place to keep up with all the stuff I write, which includes not just queer novels and moody philosophical novellas but also weird science fiction prose poems.
I got nothin' else to say. Either that last paragraph made you go, "Oooh!" or you're already gone.
3 notes
·
View notes