I love a good murder ballad, especially the old classics. And by old classics, I mean any murder ballad where a woman does the murder. I just think those are more fun, especially if they have a sense of fantasy to them. When I first heard Old Blind Dogs’ version of The Cruel Sister, whereContinue reading “Which murder ballad are you?”
It’s spooky season, so let’s find out what kind of ghost you’ll be.
In the quiet of the dark room, I curled around my girl’s heart and smiled.
Just because something has been done before, doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing again. I’ll admit it: I’m a sucker for a good fairy tale retelling, and Beauty and the Beast is one of my favorites. The story form is rich emotional soil for drama and intrigue, be it Cruel Beauty, A Court of ThornsContinue reading “Retelling Beauty and the Beast”
Elise existed in the most delectable state of shame, and had only grown more succulent by the day. She would taste so pretty, writhing in pain within my grasp. And now she was out of my reach, at a hospital somewhere, from what I could gather from the man’s murky thoughts as he shuffled through her closet.
She wasn’t the type to coddle living things. Most people like to have something living nearby — a plant, a fish, a cat, another human. I’d never seen another living being in her space. It was just her and me.
Some people beg for demons. They fall easily, writhing with regret. Even in those who summon demons, attempting to bind us with foul symbols of the false god, there is a frisson of fear. Unbelievers are as easily haunted as the devout. Shame is the only requirement. We always have options, if we’re willing to take them.
It takes a certain type of carelessness to talk to a demon. Elise had that in spades.
This is better, she thought. I’d rather die fighting anyway.
The demon stepped toward her, and she plunged the shard of wood into his heart.
Last week I wrote a few poems, a few meditations, and a whole lot of a self-indulgent gothic romance. Here are a few of my favorite snippets. A. You can want for nothing and still be unwanted. This was a thought that had crossed Evangeline’s mind at least once a week since her sixteenth birthday.Continue reading “Last week’s snippets”