She lived in a world of beautiful confusion: raindrop curtains and jellybean stars; graffitied skies and dripping suns. Yet they pitied her.
Em D likes quirky witticisms, sexual innuendo, and blueberries. Em D hates corny puns, toilet humor, and raisins. (@slashindex)
She almost said yes, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw two lurking smirks, an elbow poking a rib. No, she said. Not with you.
Jennifer Tatroe (@jhtatroe) lives in Seattle, where she’s working on a novel that’s decidedly longer than 140 characters.
I know you read everything I write, wondering if it’s about you. Well, here you go. You’re worth 121 characters to me.
Mercedes M. Yardley wears poisonous flowers in her hair.
If Frankenstein ever knocks on my door I’ll kiss him right there at the threshold. Thank you, I’ll say, thank you for being so obvious.
Peter Schwartz is just a less obvious monster.
The grey cathedral steps open up to arches of sky. From the garden glints the Bishop’s ring, who covers his face when I spot him.
Dannypoet (@dannypoet) is a writer of fiction and poetry who is currently working on his first novel.
Introverts were outlawed in 2015. The last hermit was found and executed in Greenland six years later; within six months everyone was deaf.
Meika Loofs Samorzewski (@meika) no longer writes for humans and lives in Tasmania.
New scribe, recording a great triumph. His words are flawed, and he cleans the clay, wishing he could erase the cuneiform of his memory.
Deborah Walker thinks: least said, soonest mended.
Eddie lost himself sitting on Father Rex’s overstuffed couch, ruminating in the dark odor of altar wine and years of premature communion.
Chris Lindgren writes bits of microcontent found scattered & hyperlinked here and there. He is mostly Norwegian & lives in Fargo, ND.
Cuddling with her toilet, Lani regrets that fifth Long Island Iced Tea. The naked man on her bed is past caring, for which she is grateful.
C.S. Eastman (@queeninyellow) has an unwholesome love of roller derby, robot monkeys and zombies.